by Sara Reinke
* * * *
“Be careful,” she told Una, placing the tricorne hat onto Una’s head and adjusting the broad brim to hide the older woman’s face in shadows. The two stood just outside of the Wake Arms inn. It was five minutes before eleven o’clock; they had arrived just in time. The tavern was in full humor, despite the late hour; the windows were aglow with bright, golden light, and the muted sounds of laughter, song, and fiddle music seeped through the thick stone walls. Plenty of men were coming and going from the pub, enough to allow for a comfortable crowd cover.
“It could be rowdy in there,” Charlotte said, and Una laughed.
“I can handle myself,” she said. “Who taught you to throw a proper punch?”
Charlotte smiled. “Do not tell Reilly,” she said. “He thinks it was him.”
Una patted her hand against Charlotte’s cheek. “You keep out here and away from the stables,” she said quietly, her brows narrowing. “If Lord Roding is here, Edmond Cheadle cannot be far and about.”
Charlotte nodded. She watched Una walk purposefully toward the tavern door, just like she had every business in the world to be there. The door opened wide, spilling out yellow light, a billowing cloud of pipe smoke, and a deafening roar of music and voices, and Una ducked inside. The door closed behind her, and Charlotte was left alone, shivering in the shadows.
She paced about anxiously, her eyes darting all about. She had tucked her braid beneath the collar of her coat, and in the darkness, no one realized she was a woman. She milled about, looking every bit a restless man, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets, toying with her pistol.
“He will be leaving Eaton Square by dusk,” she heard a voice approaching from behind her say. There was no mistaking Edmond Cheadle’s deep, resonant timbre and her heart raced in sudden fright, her breath catching in her throat.
She did not turn; she forced herself to move nonchalantly forward, pretending she had taken no notice. She heard Cheadle’s heavy footsteps behind her, moving toward the threshold of the pub. She heard other boots falling in disharmonic rhythm with his; he had companions with him.
“He will be on the road and northward bound, at Beech Hill by ten o’clock,” Cheadle said. Charlotte turned, moving slowly, casually, and watched him walk into the inn, the sudden swell of noise from within drowning out any other words he might have said. She caught sight of two men on either side of him, and her eyes flew wide as she recognized them.
Julian Stockley and Camden Iden walked with Cheadle into the Wake Arms. The door closed behind them, and Charlotte stood rooted in place, trembling with confusion. What were Julian and Camden doing there with Cheadle?
Charlotte tried vainly to peer through the tavern window, to catch a glimpse of the three men inside. The windows were smudged with dirt, soot, and smoke and the pub patrons were crammed together nearly shoulder to shoulder inside; she could see nothing. She turned and paced again anxiously. “What in the world is going on?” she whispered.
At last, after a painful eternity, Una came out of the inn. Charlotte rushed toward her, catching her elbow and drawing her toward the stables. “Cheadle went inside,” she whispered.
“I know,” Una replied. “I saw him.” “Lords Stapleford and Hallingbury were with him,” Charlotte said.
“I know,” Una said again. “I saw them, too. They joined Lord Roding toward the back of the pub.” Charlotte blinked, confounded.
“There was no woman that I saw,” Una said. “Only those three: Mr. Cheadle and the two barons who came to sit with Lord Roding. They fell together in conversation, but I do not know what they said. I did not want to risk drawing near enough to hear.”
“I will go,” Charlotte said, frowning, glancing toward the tavern door. “Give me my hat back. I will slip inside and―”
“Do not be foolish, Charlotte,” Una said, catching her firmly by the sleeve. “Lord Roding sits facing the full breadth of the room. He will see you.”
“What could they be talking about?” Charlotte asked. “James has seen Julian and Camden all week at the parties. Why would he meet with them so late at night, and at such a place as this? Something is going on, Una. I do not know what, but I want to find out.”
“Charlotte,” Una said sternly, drawing her distracted gaze. “We should leave. You came here to discover Lord Roding’s lover, and there is not one to be found.”
“You do not think it is odd?” Charlotte asked. “The four of them meeting for no apparent purpose?”
“Their purpose does not matter,” Una said. “It does not concern us. They are grown men who can meet socially as they please. Let us go. Come now, lamb. It is time to go home.”
“Not yet,” Charlotte said.
Una’s brows narrowed. “Charlotte…” she began.
“Not yet, Una,” Charlotte insisted. “Something is going on. By my breath, I tell you there is. If they are all inside, if Cheadle is with them, then their horses must be in the stables. We will go there and wait for them.
Maybe we will overhear something in the barn.”
“Charlotte…” Una began again, but Charlotte hooked her hand against the older woman’s arm and pulled her in tow.
“Not yet,” she said.