“Is it helpful?” asked Raven.
“Very,” replied Charlotte, exaggerating only a little. She was inordinately fortunate that her friend was willing to pass on information that she could access nowhere else. But she knew she was dancing along a razor’s edge with her questions. Their friendship had been formed in childhood, when his circumstances had been far more humble than they were now. They had formed a strong bond of trust, and had shared secrets. But life had changed for him, and she didn’t want to force him to decide where his true loyalties lay.
“These letters are important, and I don’t know how I would manage them without you.”
“S’all right,” mumbled Raven through a mouthful of stew. To his brother he added, “Oiy, mind your manners. No slurping.”
Charlotte bit back a smile.
“We can go whenever you need te send one,” continued Raven.
“Or any other errand,” chirped in Hawk.
“Thank you.” She passed them both an extra hunk of bread.
“I almost forgot, we heard more from Skinny about the Runner,” said Hawk, once he had chewed and swallowed his food. “His Nibs—”
“Lord Wrexford,” corrected Charlotte.
“Yeah, him—when the Runner was questioning him, there was another cove in the room. His name was Field . . . Field . . .”
“Shef-field,” finished Raven. “The Runner told Skinny he was a friend of Lord Wrexford.”
Sheffield.Charlotte made a mental note to ask Jeremy about the earl’s circle of friends. “Did the Runner describe him?”
Raven repeated what he had heard.Tall, fair-haired—It wasn’t a lot to go on, but Charlotte saw a way to add a new element to her drawing before sending it to the engraver.
“Oh, and Skinny said one of His Lordship’s servants delivered your print—the one wiv all the blood—while His Nibs was being raked over the coals,” added Hawk.
That would make a nice touch, she thought wryly. There was just enough room to work it into the drawing before sending it off.
“And Skinny heard that Lord Wrexford was oogling the ’orrible burns on the reverend’s face.”
“Ha! The devil admiring his handiwork,” said Raven after spooning up the last mouthful of his stew.
“We don’t know that he committed the crime,” she pointed out, though the concept of truth likely meant little to the boys. In their world, guilt or innocence was about how fast one could run or how much money one had for bribes.
The truth was, all signs pointed to Wrexford being the culprit. But pedigree and prestige were dauntingly powerful, as she well knew. The authorities would have to be awfully sure of themselves to arrest him.
“Cor, you should have seen the body, with all that scorched flesh and putrid color, Hawk.” Raven made a face. “It was disgusting.”
Intent on changing the subject before it turned too gruesome, Charlotte gathered up the empty bowls and set them down by the wash pail. “If you’re not too tired, would you be willing to take my drawing to the engraver later this evening instead of tomorrow afternoon?”
She was loath to ask the boys to go out at night. But they often went off on their own, and from what they had told her, the authorities looked to be intensifying their scrutiny of the earl. Come morning, a new print in the shop’s display window would fan the public’s prurient interest. It would sell well, and it was wise to take advantage of such a juicy scandal.
“Yeah, all right,” agreed Raven with a shrug. “S’no trouble. We were already planning te head that way.”
She didn’t ask why. Though a part of her yearned to play the mother hen, she knew they wouldn’t thank her for it. The laws of life here were a world away from those of her own childhood, but she had learned to accept them. The choice to cross the boundaries and venture into unknown territory had been a voluntary one.
There was no going back.
“Thank you. Just give me a little time to add the extra details.”
Raven sprawled out on the rag rug by the stove and began toying with a handful of skittles he had pulled from his pocket. Hawk was quick to join him. “Aye, m’lady. We’ll be right here when you need us.”
* * *
“Are you saying you saw the Right Reverend Josiah Holworthy here inside the Royal Institution?” demanded Wrexford.
