Page 50 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)
W rexford and Charlotte listened without interruption to Sheffield’s explanation of what Ricardo needed.
“It’s actually a simple task, Wrex,” interjected Raven.
“With Hawk and Peregrine as lookouts, I’ll have plenty of warning of when it is safe to head up and come down.
And the building is only three stories high, with decorative stone work for an easy climb and a ledge that gives access to the window. ”
“I’m well aware of your skills, lad,” said Wrexford. And yet he hesitated. His own encounters with Le Loup had, he admitted, left him feeling all too aware of how dangerously cunning the French operative was.
What if …
“We’re not doubting your skills, sweeting.” Charlotte looked to Sheffield. “And we, of course, realize how important this is for our country.”
She hesitated, and then, as if reading the earl’s thoughts, a shadow of fear darkened her gaze.
“My worry is that if the French plan to destabilize the Stock Exchange and ruin Britain’s ability to raise money to fund a war is key to Napoleon’s hope of regaining his empire, then it stands to reason that Le Loup may have the building under surveillance. ”
Sheffield said nothing, a tacit admission that none of them could say for sure that the danger didn’t exist.
“Sometimes, when Good and Evil hang in the balance, you simply have to take a chance, m’lady,” said Raven softly. “You and Wrex have set that example for us Weasels countless times.”
Tears pearled on Charlotte’s lashes, but in light of those words, how could she say no? In answer to Wexford’s searching stare, she gave a tiny nod.
“Le Loup is big and heavy, and we know he has a hitch in his gait,” pointed out Raven. “He can’t match my speed and agility. He’ll never catch me.”
Wrexford saw Charlotte flinch. Thinking, no doubt, about the bullet hole in Raven’s rucksack. However, she maintained a stoic silence.
“So,” said Sheffield. “Are we all agreed?”
The earl gave her one last chance to voice an objection and then drew in a measured breath. “Yes.”
Raven moved to the doorway. “I’ll go inform Hawk and Peregrine. When the time comes—arriving a little after midnight would be a good choice—I think it best for the three of us to leave the house through our bedchamber window, so that Eddy doesn’t notice any nocturnal activity.”
“I’ll have my carriage waiting for the boys on Davies Street,” said Sheffield.
“Needless to say, I’ll be coming with you,” announced Wrexford.
Taking the ensuing silence as a signal that the plan was finalized, Raven slipped out and headed for the stairs.
The moon was playing hide-and-seek within the thickening scrim of clouds that had blown in from the east, its pale flutters of silvery light growing fainter and fainter.
A breeze wafted through the buildings adjoining Capel Court, stirring a muted rustling of the shutters that were closed for the night.
Crouched just below the peaked roofline, Raven clung to the decorative coping stones, his blackened face and dark clothing blending into the shadows as he waited for a signal from Hawk that all was clear to make his way along the window ledge.
A moment later, the twitter of a nightingale told him to proceed. With catlike stealth, he crept across the narrow jut of stone to the rectangle double-paned window of the office assigned to the Dutch bankers and slipped the blade of his knife between the brass casements.
Jiggle, jiggle . The latch of the lock slipped free of the locking mechanism, allowing Raven to slip inside …
An hour passed with excruciating slowness. And when another seemed on the cusp of slipping away, Wrexford swore under his breath—only to glance at his pocket watch and discover that a mere ten minutes had passed.
“Stop pacing. You look like a cat trying to cross a red-hot griddle,” grumbled Sheffield. “It’s making me jumpy.”
Ricardo didn’t look up from the papers and ledgers spread out on his desk. “Patience, gentlemen, patience,” he counseled.
The three of them were waiting in the stockjobber’s Nicholas Lane office for Raven to arrive with the results of his mission.
“You’ve both assured me that Master Sloane has a great deal of experience in clandestine activities,” he added.
Although he liked and trusted Ricardo, Wrexford had seen no point in mentioning the fact that his other two wards were equally involved in the mission. The more people who knew his family’s secret, the greater the possibility of trouble.
Refraining from comment, Wrexford turned to watch the swirling currents of the dark water through the night-misted windowpanes. Even at this late hour, there were ghostly sails catching the tide in order to make the journey down to the sea.
Ebb and flow . One had no choice but to move with the rhythms of the cosmos.
If only the flow would start to turn in their favor.
“Sorry,” Sheffield came over to join him. “I haven’t yet had a chance to tell you, but my inquiries into Fogg’s gambling did turn up the fact that he frequents a very opulent and exclusive gaming hall in St. Giles. He’s had a string of losses lately—rather steep ones—but has covered his vowels.”
“Which begs the question of how,” muttered Wrexford. “Can you ask around among your banker friends and discern what his finances look like?”
“I’ll see what I can dig up,” said Sheffield. “By the by, your friend Norwood also frequents the place.”
“He’s related to the Grenville family. I daresay he can afford it.”
“I doubt that our old university friend, Giles Arlington, can.” Sheffield made a face. “Apparently he’s sunk himself deep in the River Tick.”
“Count your blessings that you met Cordelia when you did,” said Wrexford.
“Amen to that.”
They stood together in silence until the sound of steps drew them back from their thoughts.
Raven burst through the door a moment later, and seeing the expectant faces turn his way, he skidded to a halt.
“You were right, Mr. Ricardo! Just as you suspected, I found a large ledger in one of the desk drawers filled with the types of names you mentioned, each followed by a notation on a transaction. And in one of the locked cabinets were several portfolio cases filled with official consol documents.”
He pulled a small notebook from his coat pocket and handed it over. “I copied the first page of the ledger—it went on for quite a few more—just so you could confirm what I saw.”
“It seems you may have a future in the government’s Ministry of State Security, lad,” announced Ricardo, after reading over Raven’s list and giving a satisfied smile.
“I think there are other more attractive opportunities lying ahead for Raven,” replied Wrexford. “But yes, well done.”
“Any trouble?” asked Sheffield.
A grin. “None whatsoever.”
“Then let us return to Berkeley Square,” said the earl. To Ricardo, he added, “We’ll await word from you on what your next step will be to counter the French threat to Britain’s finances—”
“And how we can help,” finished Sheffield.
“Yes, yes.” His attention locked on the notebook Raven had given to him, Ricardo responded with a vague wave.
Taking Raven by the arm, Wrexford left the room, his mounting worries over the military situation across the Channel suddenly making him feel helpless—especially as the Weasels were doing the dangerous work here at home.
Sensing the earl’s mood, Sheffield maintained a tactful silence as he followed along at a discreet distance.
Few words were exchanged during the carriage ride home, save for a flurry of whispers between the Weasels once they approached Mayfair.
“We’ll get out at the next corner,” said Raven, “and climb up to our rooms from the back garden terrace, just to ensure that Eddy doesn’t hear us come up the stairs.”
Wrexford gave an absent nod.
“Don’t look so blue-deviled,” chided Sheffield after the boys had slipped away. “We know what the French are up to, and Ricardo will design a strategy to strike back.”
His eyes narrowed. “And knock their plan to flinders.”
Leaving nothing to chance, Raven shifted his handhold on the thick vines of ivy and inched open the window casement to peer into the darkened bedchamber.
The shadows lay still, as if deep in slumber.
Satisfied, he looked over his shoulder and waved for his fellow Weasels to continue their climb before wriggling through the gap and dropping noiselessly to the floor.
“I’m famished,” whispered Hawk. He crawled over to his chest of drawers and slid the bottom one open. “I’ve got half a bag of licorice—”
A grunt.
Sitting back in surprise, he raised his brows at Peregrine.
“Don’t look at me! I didn’t take it.”
“No, I did.” Eddy stepped out from behind the half-open door of the adjoining room.
“Spying on other members of our household is an underhanded trick,” muttered Raven.
Harper, who was right behind her, dropped his shaggy head and let out an apologetic whuffle .
“So is keeping secrets,” she retorted.
All three Weasels remained stoically silent.
“Do Wrex and m’lady know of your nocturnal forays?” she demanded. “And don’t bother to deny that you’re up to something havey-cavey.”
Still no response.
“Fine.” Fisting her hands in her night-rail, Eddy turned to leave. “Clearly you don’t trust me—”
“Wait,” hissed Raven. “It’s … it’s not that simple.”
“Oiy, it is.” Eddy lifted her chin. “Either you believe that I can be trusted with secrets or you don’t.”
“Actually, there’s a third alternative,” replied Raven. “The decision isn’t ours to make.”
“W-What do you mean?”
“I can’t explain—” began Raven.
“Because the secrets involved are dangerous,” interrupted Hawk. “It’s not just us and our family who would be at risk.”
Eddy released a shaky breath. “Thank you for at least trusting me with that.” She thought for a long moment, her expression betraying a hint of vulnerability despite the challenging tilt of her chin.
“Granted, you don’t know me very well, but I have more experience than you might think in keeping dangerous secrets. ”