“Duties?”

“Duties. I’ve promised his lordship as much help as he needs with his engine, thus we must have more help to do the servants’ work. You and the servants here can fill in as needed. The balance of your wages will be paid, of course. Gillian will no doubt wish to give me a wedding present—I shall simply inform her that your wages are to be that present.”

“Ye’re all kindness,” Crouch said with only minor scar twitching.

“Did you ever doubt it?” Charlotte asked as she drew on her gloves and prepared to depart.

“No, can’t say as I ’ave. About the inquiry in Scotland—I take it ye’ll be wantin’ it to continue on, then?”

“Yes, definitely. I’m quite certain that investigation there will turn up the proof we need to show that the Pretender is not who he says he is. Tell your man there to continue until he has the proof I need.”

“Aye. Is there anythin’ else ye’ll be wantin’ me to do?”

Charlotte allowed Crouch to open the sitting room door for her. “No, I don’t think so. Just be sure you and the men are at our house by sunup.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

She headed down the stairs, mentally drawing up a list of tasks to be accomplished before the day was finished: There was a very stern letter to be written to Dunbridge and Storm informing them that their services would no longer be required if they couldn’t remember just who employed them, there was Caroline to visit and catch up with all the latest gossip, and most importantly, she needed to find time to sit down with some of Dare’s books to study up on his engine.

“Oh,” she said as she was about to mount the steps to the carriage. She turned back to Crouch, waiting politely on the pavement, his hook glinting wickedly in the sunlight. “There is one other thing—have you or any of the other servants any experience in marine engine design or construction?”

He seemed to choke on something—a molecule of air, no doubt, her cousin Gillian did that all the time—before he replied. “I’m sorry to be disappointin’ ye, but none of the lads ’as that, m’lady.”

“Pity,” Charlotte said as she stepped into the carriage and instructed the coachman to take her to Caro’s house.

***

A tall, plump woman with graying hair stood presenting something green to Caroline. As Charlotte was announced, the woman whisked whatever it was into her skirts and made a hasty, red-faced exit. “Has it come to this, Caro? Giggling in your sitting room with Cook?” she asked as she nudged Wellington aside and claimed his seat.

“Oh, no! That is…it’s just…there was…and it was…and she thought I’d want to see…oh, my!” Caroline dissolved into teary-eyed whoops of laughter as Charlotte adjusted her skirts. Wellington the pug wiggled happily at her, and after rubbing his squashed-in little face against her ankle, she relented and scratched him behind his stubby little ears until he collapsed with a sigh of pleasure, resting his chin on her foot as he drifted into a loud sleep.