Page 100 of Murder on Black Swan Lane

That Wrexford could well believe. Men like St. Aubin had a finely honed sense of self-preservation.

He looked to Charlotte. “I think we’ve learned all that we came here for.” And perhaps more. He now had an inkling of why Anthony Sloane had died. “Shall I keep my word? Or do you wish to extract your pound of flesh?”

A hesitation, so slight that if he hadn’t come to know her subtle signs, he might have missed it. And then, in answer, she slid St. Aubin’s weapon into her pocket.

Stoughton slumped back against the cushions with a groan of relief.

St. Aubin lost no time in rising, but the earl moved to block his path to the doorway. “Not so fast. I promised you could leave unharmed. I said nothing about going away unpunished.”

“What the devil do you mean?”

“Listen carefully. I am about to explain,” replied Wrexford. “You and Stoughton will step outside, flag down a hackney, and have it take you to Blackwell.”

“B-Blackwell?” stammered Stoughton.

“The East India dockyard,” clarified the earl. “Where you will take passage on the first ship sailing east to India.”

“Travel half a world away to a godforsaken, primitive country full of pestilence and heathen savages?” said St. Aubin. He chuffed an uncertain laugh. “Why on earth would we do that?”

“Because, if you are still on English soil by noon tomorrow, I will hunt you down for the vermin you are, and see that you hang along with Lowell, who will soon be arrested for the murders of Holworthy and Drummond. There’s now enough evidence to prove you were accomplices to those crimes, as well as the sordid business of Sloane’s death and the art forgeries.”

“You’re bluffing,” rasped St. Aubin.

True. But he doubted the fellow had the nerve to call him out on it. “Then let us put our cards down on the table and see who holds the winning hand.”

Stoughton staggered to his feet. “I’ve no friends, no connections in India,” he said in a piteous whine. “What will I do?”

“You’ll find a way to survive. Which is more than can be said if you choose to stay here,” replied Wrexford. “For if the courts don’t sentence you to death, I’ll take it upon myself to mete out justice.”

“For God’s sake, show some mercy!”

“I’m showing you more than was shown to Anthony Sloane.” He flicked his pistol. “I suggest you get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

As Stoughton stumbled for the door, the earl turned to St. Aubin. “The clock is ticking. Or do you really fancy your chances at beating me at this game?”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, hatred darkening the other man’s irises to pure black. But St. Aubin’s bravado had already proved to be an empty shell. After spitting out a venomous oath, he let his eyes slide away.

“I didn’t think so.”

Fists clenched in impotent fury, St. Aubin stalked off after his coconspirator, trailed by Sheffield’s parting jeer. “As you see, a cowardly cur never plays unless he’s sure he knows how to cheat the odds.”

The heavy oak portals fell closed, muffling the doleful tread of retreating footsteps.

“I would be willing to wager that one of them murders the other before their ship rounds the Cape of Good Hope,” added Sheffield with a hint of ghoulish glee.

“For once you might actually win some money,” quipped Wrexford, hoping humor might lessen the tension in the room. Charlotte had shifted even farther into the coal-dark shadows.Withdrawing into herself?Her shape was nearly lost in the amorphous shades of grey.

“Mrs. Sloane,” he called softly. “My apologies for improvising. It was, I realize, waltzing along a razor’s edge—”

“No need for an apology on improvising, Lord Wrexford. It is a dance I do daily,” she replied. “You’ve proved extremely adept at it tonight.” A tiny pause. “Especially for a man of science, who values precision above all else.”

There were meanings within meanings entangled in the short statement. He was too tired to try to unknot them.

“As you’ve pointed out, at times intuition must overrule intellect.”

“So it must,” she said blandly. The lamp was burning low. A sudden last flare painted her upturned face in a reddish glow, and then with a hiss and spark the flame went out, leaving them in the dark.

“We ought to be going.” Her disembodied voice floated through the gloom.