Page 101 of Murder on Black Swan Lane

There was nothing more for them here, agreed Wrexford. He turned and silently led the way back the way they had come.

“Mrs. Sloane, we ought to escort you home,” began Sheffield as they filed through the narrow opening into the back alleyway. But as he turned, there was only a shiver of mist-shrouded shadows behind him.

“Damnation, she ought not be out on the streets alone—”

“Let her go, Sheff.” A fitful breeze tugged at Wrexford’s words, swirling them into the other night sounds. “It’s not for us to say what she can and cannot do.”

* * *

Her steps guided more by instinct than any conscious effort, Charlotte made her way through the labyrinth of byways back to the fringes of St. Giles. Strangely enough, a search of all her most vulnerable places found only a dull numbness. She had imagined that retribution would feel better than that.

Choices, choices.Could one truly choose to unwind the grip of guilt, of sorrow, and put them in the past? Or was it ruled by its own elaborate alchemy, an indefinable mix and measure of ingredients that defied mortal longings?

Wrexford would have an opinion. A sardonic one, no doubt.

Ah, but Wrexford was yet another complicated alchemy. At the moment Charlotte had not yet decided how she felt about his actions. Presumptuous, yes, but he had, through sheer force of will, helped reach a point of resolution and redemption.

She should feel gratitude, not resentment.

The sensation of relief was also sharp, but in a way she didn’t expect. Not that any of her emotions were making sense.

The streets had turned narrower and muddier, the sweetness of Mayfair giving way to the less salubrious scents of St. Giles. Darkness pinched in from all angles, the crooked buildings and overhanging roofs crowding out the weak starlight. But as she reached a fork in the way, Charlotte felt a small frisson tickle over her shoulders, as if the weight of past mistakes might be shifting. Perhaps—just perhaps—it was possible to shed old burdens, to forge new paths.

Hope, however, was a two-edged sword, a dangerous weapon in careless hands. Those who chose to wield it must always be on guard.

Dawn was softening the night sky by the time she arrived at her door and let herself in.

Raven was curled up by the stove, a blanket snugged around his shoulders. But by how quickly he sat up as she relocked the door, it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping.

“The streets are dangerous at night, m’lady,” he chided. “You shouldn’t be scarpering around alone.”

“That’s rather the pot calling the kettle black,” replied Charlotte.

“Aye, we wuz out,” chimed in Hawk. “That’s because . . .” He looked to his brother.

“That’s because Billy Black Hat has a new set of ivories,” said Raven without hesitation. “And he was keen to teach us te play hazard.”

“Actually, it’s because Lord Wrexford asked you to create a disturbance at the Royal Institution,” she countered, deciding to dispel with any shilly-shallying around the events of the night.

He ducked his head. “Sorry. I know it’s wrong te tell a clanker, but we were sworn to secrecy. And a gentleman must always keep his word, right?”

Like most things in life, honor wasn’t always black and white.

“We will discuss the fine points of morality at another time,” she answered. “Be that as it may, in this instance it was more the earl’s fault than yours so you are forgiven.”

Both boys looked relieved.

“However, I ask that you don’t lie to me in the future. It’s important for us to be able to trust in each other.”

Looking pensive, Raven nodded.

His brother responded with fiercer enthusiasm. “I won’t! May I be struck dead and roasted on a spit in hell if I do.”

“A very noble gesture.” She smiled. “But I don’t require such an extreme sacrifice. I simply ask that you do your best to be a man of honor.”

“Besides, you wouldn’t be more’n a mouthful fer the Devil,” quipped his brother. “He wouldn’t squibble his time cookin’ you over the coals.”

“Speaking of meals,” interjected Charlotte. “I’m sure you are famished after all your activities. What say we have a treat of fresh-baked bread, butter, and some gammon for breakfast.”