Perhaps they were not quite loose enough, for he cleared his throat with a cough. “It’s awoman.”
“Howveryastute of you, sir,” she snapped, in no mood to deal with the usual horrified huffs on how females should know their proper place. “Let us hope you are also smart enough to stubble any insulting platitudes about women being the weaker sex.”
Tyler swallowed a laugh. “I see that her tongue is as sharp as her quill.”
“Give her the weapon,” said Wrexford tightly.
“Wrex, I really don’t think that’s a wise idea,” murmured his friend.
“Nor do I,” answered the earl. “You are welcome to try reason, but I’ll not waste my breath. She is an unholy force of Nature unto herself.”
Sheffield stared at her warily, as if she had suddenly sprouted horns and cloven hooves.
“We ought not waste time either.” She shoved the pistol into her pocket. “You said we must hurry.”
“I should come with you, milord,” said Tyler. “This could turn ugly.”
“No, I need you to stay here and run an analysis on the explosive,” replied Wrexford, and gave a terse explanation of what he wanted done.
“Damnation, Wrex,” muttered his friend. “We can’t put a female in danger. It’s . . . ungentlemanly.”
“Calm your conscience, Mr. Sheffield. As you can see, I’m no lady.”
“How do you know who I am—”
“Because she’s A. J. Quill, Sheff,” snapped Wrexford. “Which ought to explain a great deal.”
Sheffield’s brows shot up in surprise, but he kept silent.
Charlotte was already at the open window. She had made it her business to know exactly where The Ancients had their lair. “I suggest we go out this way, milord. I know a shortcut through the alleyways that will bring us to the clubhouse quicker than any hackney.”
“Do lead on, m’lady,” he said with exaggerated politeness.
He hadn’t used that moniker in ages—which proved he was no more happy with her than she was with him.Trust.Whatever fragile one had developed between them, God only knew whether tonight had shattered it beyond repair.
The breeze rippled through the draperies as she swung a leg over the sill. Silvered by the moonlight, the mist-swirled garden had an enchanted aura to it. A sense of peace and calm that no devil or demon could penetrate. But beyond the high walls, the looming stretch of midnight blackness warned that no spell, however sublime, could promise to keep evil at bay.
“This way,” whispered Charlotte pointing to one of the footpaths once the earl and his friend had dropped down to the damp grass beside her. “Stay close to me. It’s easy to get lost in the maze of passageways.”
Her thoughts were quickly caught up in the coming confrontation. Was there redemption in revenge? Catharsis through tragedy? That her enemies were members of The Ancients had a certain twisted irony. The Greeks and Romans explored the conflicting complexities of human nature in their myths and drama.
There were few happy endings. Even victory rarely came without a price.
Slipping, sliding through the rutted mud, Charlotte quickened her steps. The darkness squeezed tighter around her, splintered boards and jagged brick clawing at her coat.
The chorus of inner voices grew louder, chanting Anthony’s anguished cries.
The gods punished hubris. They did not like mortals who challenged the order of the universe.
As she well knew.
But what more could they do to her? They had already exacted their pound of flesh.
Charlotte skidded to a stop, lungs burning, heart pounding with the force to burst through bone and skin. She blinked, willing the haze to clear from her head.
“We’re here,” she whispered, inching closer to the opening of the passageway. Directly across the deserted cobbled street was an elegant Italianate town house. No light peeked out through the windows. Like its neighbors, it appeared to be deep in peaceful slumber.
Wrexford drew close—so close she could hear the hammering of his heart. Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a swift shake. “This is far more than personal now. I must have your promise that from here on, you will obey my orders. A misstep and many people may die.”
