Page 40 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)
“Y ou’re up at the crack of dawn.” Charlotte pushed back the coverlet and sat up in bed.
“Eddy enjoyed our ride so much yesterday that I wanted to take her out again.” Wrexford finished knotting his cravat. “Not only is it best to head off at an early hour in order to have a good gallop, but the timing also works out well for my other plans for the day.”
He pulled on his boots. “Given what we heard last night, I wish to speak with Colonel Duxbury at Horse Guards, as well as an acquaintance on the prime minister’s privy council who may be willing to tell me of any clandestine French activity here in Town.”
Charlotte rose, and after donning her wrapper, she fetched his riding gloves from his dressing room. “It’s a lovely morning. I shall take that as a good omen.”
He smiled. “The time together on horseback with Eddy is the perfect way for us to get to know each other. She’s a neck-and-leather rider and possesses great pluck and spirit. Seeing her let down her guard and laugh as the wind tugs at her hair gives me great hope that she’ll be happy here with us.”
“It’s interesting how often black clouds have silver linings,” she observed.
Wrexford paused to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “You have a special gift of seeing the best in any situation.”
She brushed an unruly curl back from his brow. “We are fortunate beyond measure to have each other and our loved ones. I don’t intend to let anyone take that elemental joy away from us.”
“Nor I,” he murmured.
Another kiss.
“Now, I had better be off. Luckily, Eddy is an early riser and will be on the roof tending to her birds.” The earl pulled on his gloves and headed for the stairs leading up to the roof.
Clad in her night-rail and a thick woolen wrapper, her copper-tinged curls shimmering in the soft sunlight, Eddy was just finishing her inspection of the dovecote’s nest holes as he rounded the corner of the stone parapet.
“The squabs are almost ready to test their wings!” she announced.
“Indeed?” He crouched down beside her. The little birds no longer looked like awkward puffs of thistledown as their feathers had replaced the downy fluff. “That’s exciting. You must show me how you begin their training.”
“I didn’t think you had any interest in pigeons.”
“I have an interest in anything that’s important to you, Eddy. Taking joy in each other’s passions is part of the bonds that tie a family together.”
She clucked softly to one of the squabs who poked its head out of its nest before answering. “I heard Raven tell Hawk and Peregrine that my birds were smelly.”
“Have you ever invited him to see them?”
“I didn’t think he would like them,” muttered Eddy.
“In science we call that making an assumption about the final results before we test them—which isn’t a very reliable method if one is seeking the truth.”
“You think I should …” Her voice trailed away.
“I think you should think about it—but later.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I came up here to see if you wished to take a ride in Hyde Park before I head off to some meetings.”
Wrexford rose. “If so, you’ll need to change quickly, so that we’ll have ample time to explore the trails up near the Cumberland Gate.”
“That would be splendid! I’ll be ready in a trice!” Eddy nearly tripped on the hem of her night-rail as she sprang up and darted off for the stairs.
Smiling to himself, the earl made his way down to the mews and saddled Lucifer. His own mount—he had sent one of the grooms to fetch his Spanish-bred hunter from Wrexford Manor—was already waiting impatiently by the courtyard gate.
“Behave yourself,” chided Wrexford as the black stallion laid back its ears and snorted what was likely an equine insult at the other horse. “Sombra runs like the wind, and if you get his dander up, he just might beat you.”
“Ha, don’t count on it!” said Eddy from behind him. She whispered something unintelligible to Lucifer before rushing past him.
“Just a moment.” He reached out to properly fasten the chin strap of her shako riding cap.
“It’s far more fun to feel the wind in my air!” she protested, and then heaved a sigh. “Yes, yes, I know it’s the rules.” A sniff. “But I dislike it immensely.”
He laughed. “I’m aware of your sentiments. That won’t make the rules go away.”
She bit back a grin. “Give me a leg up, Wrex, and we’ll soon see who is fastest, hat or no hat.”
They headed down Mount Street and entered the park through the Grosvenor Gate. The hour was still early, and the area was deserted. The beau monde favored the popular “Rotten Row,” a section of the old King’s Road that was considered the most fashionable place to ride.
Wrexford drew his horse to a halt. “Up ahead, the way forks. We can either go left, which leads through some wooded areas, or head to the right, where the trees soon open up to some rolling meadowland.”
As Eddy studied the terrain, the earl heard a rider approach from the rear and was relieved to hear the sound of hoofbeats head north. He didn’t wish to share this peaceful interlude with a stranger.
“Right,” announced Eddy, “which I daresay doesn’t surprise you. Of course I wish to gallop hell for leather, and that’s best done over meadowland.”
“Be forewarned, you’re too good a rider for me to give you any quarter.”
Her laugh kindled a sweet warmth in the center of his chest.
“Let’s see if Lucifer and I are up to the challenge,” she replied.
“We must take it slowly through this short stretch of the woods. The exposed tree roots can be dangerous for horses.”
The bridle path was just wide enough to allow them to ride abreast, and the earl took the opportunity to ask her a few more questions about her pigeons and their upcoming training.
“They seem to like London despite the smoke and filth,” she began. “So I don’t anticipate any trouble …”
As they rounded a tight turn, Wrexford saw a man dressed in dark-hued riding clothes and a wide-brimmed beaver hat up ahead. He was standing in the middle of the bridle path and gave a friendly wave.
“Eddy, drop back behind me,” he ordered softly. Perhaps he was overreacting, but something felt wrong, and his experience in the Peninsular War had taught him to trust his instincts. “Now, and without argument.”
“Lord Wrexford, how nice to see you.” The man’s voice was smooth as ice—and all too recognizable. “And your charming sister.”
He reined to a halt. The tangle of trees pressed in tightly. There was no room to maneuver and attempt to flee. “Your business is with me,” he said to Obsidian Eyes. “Let the girl go.”
“That would be the honorable thing to do,” agreed the French operative as he cocked his two pistols in mock salute. “But by now you must realize that I haven’t got an honorable bone in my body. It’s a concept for fools and weaklings.”
Against a less experienced killer, Wrexford gauged that he might have had a chance to spur forward and knock the man down.
“What do you want?” he asked softly.
“Your life, of course. However, before I deliver the coup de grace, I need to coax some information out of you regarding who else is helping you with your investigation. And your sister is going to help me do so.”
Lucifer suddenly began an agitated dance, snorting and stomping, his iron-shod hooves kicking up clots of earth.
“Settle the horse,” barked Obsidian Eyes.
“I—I can’t,” wailed Eddy, sounding on the verge of hysterics. “I’m t-t-too frightened.”
The French operative took a step forward—only to stop short.
Wrexford heard it, too. The sound of a horse coming toward them from the opposite direction at a fast pace.
Obsidian Eyes hesitated, but for only a heartbeat. Keeping careful aim on the earl, he darted back into the trees.
The earl’s first impulse was to give chase. However, reason quickly reasserted itself. His sister—
He whirled around in the saddle.
“What a damnable knave!” Eddy regripped her reins—Lucifer had ceased his antics—and squinted into the trees. “I don’t suppose we can go after him?”
Reassured that she was not about to fall into a swoon, Wrexford whipped out his pistol and turned to face the oncoming threat.
“Milord!” Slipping, sliding, a lathered horse came to a halt in a cloud of dust as its rider waved a hand in greeting. “Do put away your weapon. Surely you’re not still holding a grudge against me.”
“I ought to be, von Münch,” growled Wrexford, though he did put his pistol back in his pocket. “Why is it that when you appear, Trouble always seems to follow?”
“You wound me, sir. In this case, the order was reversed,” replied von Münch.
“The fellow who just accosted you is far more troublesome than I am.” He gave an apologetic shrug.
“Sorry. I misjudged where he meant to set up his ambush, else I would have warned you sooner and avoided the unpleasantness …” He gave a glance at Eddy. “… for your sister.”
“As to that ,” began the earl.
“Yes, yes, we’ll discuss that and a number of other things when we return to Berkeley Square,” interjected von Münch. “Given that we are old friends, you are going to invite me to return with you so that I can pay my respects to Lady Wrexford, aren’t you?”
Wrexford reluctantly gestured for his so-called friend to join him and Eddy.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Eddylina,” added von Münch with a graceful bow.
How the devil does he know her name?
A foolish question, decided Wrexford, given the secrets-within-secrets that lurked inside von Münch’s maddeningly oblique mind.
Eddy responded with an uncertain smile.
“Are you enjoying the city?” he inquired. “Given your interest in birds, you really must visit the Tower of London and meet its famous ravens.”
Eddy’s eyes lit with interest. “Why are they famous?”
“Ah, now that’s a fascinating story. Allow me to regale you with it while we ride back to Berkeley Square …”