“The request seems harmless enough,” he murmured. “Very well, I agree to your terms.”
“Then yes, we have a deal, sir.”
“Excellent.” The earl looked pleased. Or perhaps a better word wassatisfied. He took out another purse from his coat pocket and carefully pushed it across the table. It was considerably larger than the one he had shown to the boys. “Consider this an advance on my promise, Mrs. Sloane. A token that you may trust me.”
Trust.He could purchase a great many things from her, but trust was not one of them.
Charlotte reached out and took the purse. The chamois was tantalizingly soft against her work-callused fingers, the sonorous kiss of gold against gold a sound she hadn’t heard since . . .
Since a long time ago.
Was she making a pact with the Devil? Shaking off a frisson of unease, she tucked it deep within the folds of her gown. It was simply business. There was no reason to feel as if a jolt of unseen electricity had singed her skin.
“I assume you want a token in return,” she said, meeting his gaze. It was unwavering, and yet she sensed he, too, was not unmoved by the moment. “You came here for information—where shall we start?”
The earl didn’t hesitate. “I’d like to have an idea of how you hear all the whispered secrets that you say are floated so freely around Town.”
“As I said, it’s not nearly as nefarious as you think,” answered Charlotte. “I hear things through a great many different sources. To begin with, servants offer a wealth of information. Take, for example, my neighbor’s daughter, who works as a tweeny in one of the mansions of Mayfair. The things employers allow their hired help to see and hear would make your hair stand on end. And of course they gossip among themselves, so the secrets spread like wildfire through the underbelly of your gilded world.”
Wrexford nodded thoughtfully. “Go on.”
“I’m patient and willing to piece together all the little bits of color that paint the larger picture. The boys also know a great many of the ordinary eyes and ears in London—the people you think of as invisible. Chimney sweeps, costermongers, flower sellers, shopkeepers.” She paused. “The urchins who clean the muck from the street crossings so you don’t befoul your expensive boots.”
He gazed down at the muddy tips. “I have noticed you seem inordinately interested in my boots. You keep staring at them.”
She shrugged, not ready to reveal her reason quite yet.
Wrexford didn’t press her. His attention was already elsewhere. “Your overview has been most enlightening, but I have a few specific questions I’d like answered.” He sat up a little straighter, the intensity of his eyes sharpening. “Were your depictions of the burns on Holworthy’s face accurate?”
“Yes,” said Charlotte.
“How?” he demanded.
Ah, secrets must now be sacrificed for shillings.She must be very careful in deciding what was—and was not—for sale.
This detail, however, seemed safe enough to hand over. “Because I viewed the body before the night watchman returned with the authorities.”
He looked about to speak, but Charlotte quickly added, “Raven and Hawk heard the watchman screaming about a murder, and rushed to fetch me. And before you ask, I am very observant. I get the little details right.”
He made a face. “You are a singular woman, Mrs. Sloane. Most females would have swooned at the grisly sight.”
“I am not like most women, Lord Wrexford.”
“So I am learning.” He rubbed at his chin. “Hell’s bells, I would have liked to see the body for myself. Observant as you are, you’re not an expert in chemistry. It might prove very helpful to know exactly what substances were used.”
Charlotte saw a way to earn a bit more of the small fortune he had just paid to her. “I happen to know the body was taken to Basil Henning, a medical man in Seven Dials, whose surgery was closest to the church.”
“Henning?” repeated Wrexford. “A gruff, gravel-voiced Scot?”
She nodded. “You know him?”
“Our paths crossed briefly just before the debacle at Corunna.”
Wrexford was in the Peninsula during General Moore’s ill-fated retreat from the French army? That took Charlotte by surprise. “I didn’t realize you had been in the military, Lord Wrexford.”
“Ah, so not all my secrets are grist for your scandal mill?” His voice held no edge. “In fact, I had no official rank. I was only there for a short time gathering facts for a friend in the Foreign Office.”
Charlotte suspected there was far more to the story, but the earl’s past was none of her concern. She said nothing, waiting for him to go on.
