Charlotte quickly dropped her head. Her informants were all of the opinion that he was a hard man to fool. She had no intention of putting his abilities to the test.
“Lucky, indeed,” said Griffin slowly. He seemed to hesitate, but then turned his attention back to the earl. “I’m not sure what Lowell was involved in here, but I’m sure the government will want to explain his crimes as simply as possible. God only knows what lurid speculation A. J. Quill will provoke if he gets wind that Holworthy’s murder might be tied to some . . . explosive secret. It could stir panic throughout the city.”
“I suggest you simply tell the newspapers that Lowell and Holworthy fell out over money,” said the earl. “And that Drummond overheard the truth, forcing Lowell to do away with him, too. It’s close enough to the truth that it will stand up to scrutiny.”
“That could very well work,” mused Griffin. “My men can all be trusted to be discreet.” He glared at Charlotte. “And you, Master . . .”
“Smith,” she rasped.
“A word out of you to anyone about this night, and you’ll be answering to Bow Street for it.”
“Me?” Charlotte let out a low bark of laughter. “And just who would I be telling? The Prince Regent when he invites me te take tea wiv him?”
The Runner huffed a grunt, but seemed satisfied that she was no threat. “Be off with you, then.” He turned back to the earl. “You and Mr. Sheffield ought to disappear as well, milord. The less chance of that infernal artist’s spies seeing you here, the better.” A pause. “And if you’ll excuse me, I had best go organize things for the arrival of the fire brigade. But be advised that I shall be paying you a visit tomorrow to clear up some of the details of this case.”
* * *
“I thought it best for us to stay out of sight until the Runner toddled off.” Henning stepped out of the stairwell, holding both boys firmly by the scruff of their collars. “No easy feat with these—”
“Weasels,” said Wrexford.
They stopped squirming. The surgeon had smeared some greenish ointment on their bruised faces, making them look even more feral than usual. And then Hawk flashed a lopsided gap-toothed grin, and to his surprise, the earl felt a laugh well up in his throat.
“I did just what ye told me,” said Hawk. “I scarpered like the devil had his pitchfork pricking at my arse.”
“Don’t say arse,” chided his brother. “It isn’t gentlemanly.”
Wrexford saw Charlotte bite back a smile.
Henning released his hold, allowing Raven to shuffle forward. The boy looked up. He appeared to be struggling for something to say. Unlike his younger brother, words did not come easily to him.
Swallowing hard, he simply held out his hand.
Wrexford solemnly shook it.
A loudboom!punctuated the moment, as another window exploded in a brilliant shower of gold sparks and shards. Hawk chuffed an admiring gasp as tongues of fire rose up to dance against the somber silhouettes of the surrounding buildings.
Wrexford saw that Charlotte, too, was staring at the inferno, her profile limned in a reddish light. “I shall, of course, temper my caption, but this will likely outsell all the other prints in this scandal,” she murmured. “I may be able to ask Fores to raise my fees.” A cynical smile flickered on her lips. “At least for another week or two, until it’s time for a new peccadillo or murder to take its place.”
Murder.They had all come perilously close to death.
“Henning, take the weasels back to the house. Mrs. Sloane and I will go by a different route.”
“I’m not in need of an escort, sir,” she murmured.
“Nonetheless, I’m coming with you. Gentlemanly scruples, you see.”
“I’m too tired to argue.” She waited for the others to move out of earshot before adding, “You don’t have any gentlemanly scruples—or you’ve told me so yourself several times.”
“On occasion I lie.”
Charlotte let out a low snort. Or perhaps it was a laugh. The crackling of the fire made it impossible to tell. Turning, she beckoned him to follow. “This way. I know the area better than you do.”
Wrexford fell in step beside her. They walked on in silence, the tendrils of smoke and the crackling booms growing fainter as the darkness of the stews closed around them. It wasn’t until Charlotte led the way into a narrow alleyway that she spoke again.
“Thank you for everything, milord, especially saving Hawk—at no small risk to your own life. I . . . I am in your debt.”
“And you saved my life, at no small risk to your own. So the debt is of equal measure,” he replied. “Though I’d rather think that friendship does not require one to keep a ledger.”
