“Not particularly.”
“An admirable sangfroid.” Lowell sighed as his gaze glided over the crowd. “Alas, my position requires I make compromises. As in somehow finding polite platitudes to deflect the dowager’s suggestion that I court her granddaughter.”
“There could, I suppose, be worse fates,” said the earl.
“Not many.” Lowell gave a mock shiver. “I’d rather be boiled in nitric acid. The girl can’t string two coherent words together.”
Wrexford chuckled, but the quip made him curious about how the man had come to be working for the Institution. “Speaking of acid, have you an interest in chemistry? Is that what drew you to serving as superintendent here?”
“No interest, and no knowledge,” confessed Lowell. “I’m afraid I couldn’t distinguish sulfur from saltpeter or sugar. However, I’ve a need to earn my own keep, and as I seem to have a knack for administrative details, my father used his influence with Rumford to help me secure the position.”
“You must find all the talk of science a bit boring.”
“On the contrary. I have an interest inLepidoptera—butterflies in particular—so I understand the curiosity to observe and understand the world around us.” A wry smile. “Though some might call it an obsession.”
Wrexford nodded. “Clearly you understand the workings of the scientific mind.”
“I dabble, that is all, and my interest is likely frivolous, for I’m simply drawn to the beauty of form and color,” replied Lowell. “Despite my lack of seriousness, the board has kindly allowed me to have a small study space in the basement for my specimens. But, of course, my main focus is on the work of running the Institution, which requires most of my time.”
“You do it well,” replied the earl. “Not everyone has the gift of dealing smoothly with difficult people.”
Lowell took a small sip of his wine. “I have had a great deal of experience—my family is notable for its collection of irascible eccentrics and curmudgeons.” A note of humor crept into his voice. “I seem to be the only levelheaded, even-tempered one of the lot.”
“Drummond’s murder must certainly have tested those qualities.” Wrexford decided not to waste the opportunity to learn what he could about the Runner’s investigation. “Is Mr. Griffin making any progress in identifying a suspect?”
“Other than you?”
Wrexford grinned at the gallows humor and found himself liking the fellow more and more. “It would be far more comfortable if he would fasten his jaws on the real culprit. It’s a cursed nuisance to have the man constantly nipping at my heels.”
“I take it you found nothing in the laboratory that might help direct his attention elsewhere?”
“There was nothing of interest,” he lied.
Lowell’s expression remained politely neutral. Whatever he was thinking, he masked it well. “How unfortunate.”
A comment that could hold a number of different meanings.
“Nor,” added Wrexford, “did I abscond with any incriminating evidence. I didn’t kill Drummond.”
“Actually, I didn’t think you did. Else I wouldn’t have allowed you to go back inside the room,” said the superintendent. “I simply meant it was unfortunate that there is nothing to help Griffin catch the murderer. After the first flurry of prurient interest, the beau monde will begin to find the scandal distasteful, and that may affect our attendance. So naturally I would prefer to have the crime solved as soon as possible. To that point—”
A hail from across the room interrupted the exchange. “Alas, duty calls,” said Lowell. “Lord Boscobel is demanding my presence. If you would excuse me.”
“But of course,” replied Wrexford.
The superintendent set down his drink on the plinth. “As I was about to say, do let me know if there is anything else I can do to help.”
“I shall.” Though at the moment the earl couldn’t think of anything that might prove useful. He still felt damnably in the dark. Though he had a number of tantalizing clues in hand, as of yet he could make no logical connections between them.
Logic.Charlotte would no doubt chide him to trust more in intuition. Though that sense seemed to be failing him as well.
After a few more desultory conversations with the other guests, Wrexford left the party and headed down to the street. On reaching the corner of Piccadilly Street, he hesitated on which way to turn. His club was just a short walk down St. James’s Street, and at this hour, Canaday was likely to be in the reading room, enjoying a cigar and a glass of port. Instead, he crossed the street to flag down a hackney and ordered it to head east.
CHAPTER 14
Charlotte slowly unwrapped the oilskin and set the twine-tied bundle of manuscripts aside for later. After examining the books, she decided to begin with the one filled with exotic imagery. Setting her notebook and a pencil close at hand, she returned to the beginning and started to read.
All things are concealed in all. One of them all is the concealer of the rest—their corporeal vessel, external, visible, and moveable. All liquefactions are manifested in that vessel. For the vessel is a living and corporeal spirit....
