“Can you give me his direction?”
She described the surgery’s location.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sloane. You’ve already proved that my investment in you was a wise one.” Wrexford stretched out his legs. There had been no man in her house since Anthony’s death, and the earl’s presence seemed to dominate the room, crowding out all else.
Charlotte tried to draw in a deep breath. But even the air felt squeezed from the space.
“I wish to pay Henning a visit, so I shall leave you and your two fledglings to your feast.” He rose with a lazy grace. “Just one last thing before I go. Though you claim to be ruled by pragmatism, I doubt you would have agreed to partner with me if you thought I was guilty of Holworthy’s murder.”
“Money persuades most people to forget their tender scruples.”
“But, as you pointed out, you are not like most people,” he answered.
She shifted, uncomfortably aware of the purse’s weight in her pocket.
He was watching her intently. “What are you holding back?”
“Nothing,” lied Charlotte.
The earl stood very still, an ominous black silhouette against the grey-misted panes of the window. “Very well, we will leave it at that.” Turning, he put on his hat and angled the brim to hide his face. “For now.”
CHAPTER 6
Afugue of festering smells assaulted his nose as he crossed the narrow swath of yard between the surgery and the small outbuilding that served as the mortuary.
Death was never pretty, reflected Wrexford, save in the grandiose heroic paintings of war and sacrifice made by artists who had never experienced the stench of blood or screams of the dying.
He rapped on the door, and after a long moment a muffled voice bade him to enter.
“I’m busy.” The guttering lamplight illuminated a man hunched over a stone slab. He had not yet bothered to turn around. “Whatever you want, be quick about it.”
“I doubt the fellow you are tending gives a rat’s arse whether there’s a slight delay in wrapping him in his shroud.” The earl could just make out a pair of bare legs and yellowing toes behind the surgeon.
Henning—Wrexford recognized the man’s profile as he looked around—squinted uncertainly. “Your voice is familiar. Who are you?”
“Wrexford,” replied the earl. “We met during Moore’s campaign.”
“Bloody idiot.”
He wasn’t sure whether Henning was referring to him or the late general.
“A senseless slaughter of our soldiers,” muttered the surgeon. “A brave man, but bacon brained when it came to organizing the retreat.”
Ah, the general.
“So,” went on Henning, “have you come to ask me to prepare your corpse for the Hereafter, after the Crown’s executioner has finished with you?” The surgeon was known for his sardonic sense of humor. “It appears your recklessness has finally caught up with you. A pity. You have a decent mind when you choose to use it.”
“I’m not dead yet, and I intend to keep it that way for a little while longer. Speaking of which, how is Saybrook?” Wrexford knew the surgeon was a good friend of the Earl of Saybrook, an acquaintance of Wrexford’s from his Oxford days.
“His wounds are slowly healing. But the laudanum is taking a toll.”
Yet another casualty of the interminable war with France. The brutal conflict had cut down more friends than he cared to count. Lord Saybrook had nearly lost a leg in the fighting. “I’ve stopped by his town house on several occasions, but was told he turns away all visitors.”
“Aye. For now, he prefers to battle his demons alone,” said Henning, wiping his none too pristine hands on his bloody apron. “So, what battle brings you here, laddie? For I am assuming you did not stop to take tea and cakes in my drawing room.”
“Correct.” Wrexford moved closer and eyed the half-stitched incision in the cadaver’s chest. “I have a few questions about Reverend Holworthy’s corpse. I was told by an acquaintance of yours that his body had been brought here after its discovery.”
“It was,” confirmed Henning. “Do you mean to say it wasn’t you who doused his phiz with chemicals and sliced his throat open from ear to ear?” He began rearranging the set of scalpels on the slab. “I heard rumors on the Peninsula that you were a dab hand with a blade.”
