Page 86 of Murder on Black Swan Lane
“Quite.” Wrexford eased the thin steel probe in a touch farther and delicately pressed it up, and then down. “There, you see?” The lock had released with a satisfyingsnick. “That’s three times in a row.”
He removed the blindfold. “Your tutelage over the past hour has knocked the rust off my skills. I’ll have no trouble opening the door.”
“Yes, but creating a diversion is key to getting you inside the building without being seen,” argued his valet. “Do you really think it wise to entrust the task to a pair of unfledged urchins?”
The earl had weighed the risks and decided there was no danger in asking Raven and Hawk to make enough of a disturbance outside the Royal Institution to draw the ire of the night guard. The plan was for them to lead the man on a merry chase before disappearing into the night, and he had every confidence that they were far too quick and agile to be in any peril.
“Those unfledged urchins responded with exactly the same question when I mentioned that I was considering using you,” replied Wrexford dryly. “Along with a number of very rude observations on the abilities of a Mayfair man-milliner.”
Tyler looked bemused by the insult. “Me? A man-milliner?” The term was a bawdy disparagement of a fellow’s manhood.
“Their words, not mine. But they do have a point. They’ve lived all their lives on the streets. Raising holy hell with watchmen and shopkeepers is second nature to them. A few well-flung stones rattling against entrance lanterns and the guard won’t hesitate to leave his post to box their ears.”
He wrapped the set of picklocks in a piece of chamois and slid the roll into his boot. Unless his wits were turned arse over teakettle, they were finally in a position to take the initiative away from their adversary. Let it behisturn to react to unexpected attacks. The plan, which he and Tyler had worked out in meticulous detail over the last few hours, was to break into Lowell’s basement laboratory and look for proof that darker passions lay beneath the gossamer tales of collecting butterflies.
“Don’t sulk,” he ordered, slanting a sidelong look at his valet’s face. “We can’t take a chance of you being spotted anywhere near the building. I’ll be exceedingly careful, but Lowell is a clever dastard. There can’t be any connection to me if he notices the place has been searched.”
“What if the brats are caught?” asked his valet, who was still looking unhappy at ceding his place in the action. “Or don’t show up?”
“They won’t let us down,” assured Wrexford. The boys had greeted the request with undisguised enthusiasm. What Charlotte’s reaction would be if she knew of it was a moot point. Like the knives, it was decided this midnight foray was to be a secret between men.
He rose from his crouch by the door and entered his workroom, followed by a still-scowling Tyler. “Your task is just as important. Read over Edward Howard’s lecture on the early alchemists that Henning gave me. Then I need you to search through the library shelves and gather everything you can on his work with mercury.”
“I shall have it all bookmarked and a summary written waiting for your return.” A long-suffering sigh punctuated the reply. “Ifyou return.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Wrexford checked his pocket watch. “Time to be off.”
“Let us hope the urchins also carry gold timepieces,” muttered Tyler under his breath.
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“It must have rubbed off on me from you,” huffed his valet.
“The church bells ring the hour,” pointed out the earl as he slipped on a black coat and knitted cap. “And those who live on the street are attuned to the natural cycle of the day. I’ve tested the boys, and they’re more accurate than my fancy Breguet ticker.”
Tyler surrendered his pique with a resigned sigh. “You have the special lantern?” Clever fellow that he was, the valet had designed a pocket-sized metal apparatus with a glass lens that focused candlelight into a narrow but powerful beam. Useful in illuminating experiments, it would also prove an asset in more clandestine activities.
Wrexford patted his coat pocket in answer, and then opened the window overlooking his back garden.
“Godspeed, milord.” The whisper was quickly lost in the ruffling night breeze.
* * *
Unable to sleep, Charlotte pulled on her wrapper and padded down the stairs, intent on brewing a cup of chamomile tea. She paused halfway down and cocked an ear.
The whisper of rustling blankets and low-pitched voices rose up from the gloom. She tiptoed down several more treads and stopped to listen again.
A boot scuffed against the planked floor.
“Shhhh, you’re gonna wake her,” hissed Raven.
“Sorry.”
It was unusual for the boys to be going out at this hour. They either hared off after supper or settled in by the stove for the night. Of late, they had been loath to leave her alone.
Puzzled, she abandoned any pretense of stealth and hurried down to the main room.
Raven spun around, the dappling of moonlight from the window catching the spasm of guilt that flitted across his face.
