No, something else was worrying him.
Matthew looked back in the lady’s direction only to find her strolling toward them. Her emerald eyes glistened. She was on the offensive.
“I apologize for interrupting, but I am afraid I am in need of Dr. Talbot. We will shortly begin the discussion of his book.” Lady Charlotte lightly brushed her gloved hand against Matthew’s arm, and he swore heat sizzled along his muscles and traveled straight to his spine. How could a simple touch cause such a reaction, especially under the circumstances? What extraordinary vessels in the human body were the conduits of the powerful sparks?
“I was surprised when the invitation mentioned what drivelwe’d be discussing,” Hawley said silkily. “Are we really going to converse about kittens?”
“Only those with exceedingly sharp claws, my lord,” Lady Charlotte answered with a light, airy smile.
Hawley turned his full attention on her, and Matthew had to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from jumping in front of Lady Charlotte. Such an action would only provoke Hawley more.
“I prefer kittens that are soft and biddable.” Hawley turned his voice into a smooth caress. “Even if they try to scratch me, I know how to make them purr.”
“I didn’t know you had so much experience with wildcats, my lord.” Lady Charlotte spoke with bright innocence, but Matthew knew a woman as clever as she couldn’t have missed Hawley’s double entendre.
For the briefest of moments, the skin around Hawley’s eyes tensed, and Matthew once again saw a hint of his buried rage. He obviously hadn’t appreciated how handily Lady Charlotte had parried his innuendo.
“I am exceedingly good at taming all manner of creatures.” The words were a threat, but Hawley made them sound like a naughty, but clever, quip—the kind that earned him the reputation as a charming, incorrigible rogue.
“Well, now I know who to summon if any beasts escape the Tower and find their way to my parents’ garden,” Lady Charlotte said as she gently gave Matthew’s arm a tug. “But as much as I am enjoying our conversation about animals, Dr. Talbot must come to the front of the room.”
Hawley started to move his mouth, most likely in protest, but Matthew and Lady Charlotte were quicker. Together, they whirled away, and Alexander hurriedly took his own leave from Hawley.
As Matthew walked to the dais with Lady Charlotte, he yearned to warn her about the dangers of provoking his brother, but it wasn’t his place. Moreover, he was fairly certain the woman was well aware of exactly what kind of lion she was attempting to beard.
Any hint of relief Matthew felt at being removed from the barbed conversation with Hawley was extremely short lived. As soon as he turned to face the crowd slowly assuming their seats, a new queasy feeling merged with his other unpleasant emotions. These weren’t young male students or even his colleagues at the Amica Fauna Society or the Hippocrates League. They were the top echelon of the upper class and the esteemed artists and writers who were allowed temporary entrance into these rarefied circles.
Why had Matthew ever agreed to such an obvious farce? These people had no interest in discussing an animal that they all considered vermin, which destroyed their pheasants and other game birds.
Alexander shot him an encouraging look as he found a chair near the back row, far from the Duchess of Falcondale, who sat in regal stiffness. Although Matthew appreciated his friend’s attempt to calm him, the booming inside his chest only grew stronger. He tried drawing in air to regulate his erratic breathing, but he only succeeded in making a huffing sound.
Lady Charlotte indicated with her eyes for him to step into a small alcove by the window that was hidden from the audience. He immediately complied, although he doubted a moment alone would be enough to fortify him. He’d just have to blunder along as he had during his first few lectures.
To his shock, Lady Charlotte reached for him as she used a Doric pillar to obscure her movements from the assembly. As her pink lips drew closer and closer, Matthew’s already quickened breath turned jagged. An almost painful but utterly delightfulanticipation gripped his heart. The organ seemed to squeeze tight as fissures of something bright and hot cascaded through him.
Before his frazzled mind could comprehend what was happening, her pale, delicate fingers reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. She stepped back, her mouth drawn into the most wonderfully welcoming smile. Despite the small twang of disappointment, Matthew’s body vibrated with an energy he had not known humans could generate.
“Your forelock was dangling over your eyes.”
It wasn’t just his hair that was askew now. Matthew swallowed, and after years of saying as little as possible in her presence, words tumbled from his mouth. “It is always doing that. My fault, I suppose. I don’t grow my hair long enough to stay properly tied back—consequence of being in the wilderness for long stretches. Too much combing. Then there’s, of course, all the time I spend looking through microscopes. An abundance of tiny creatures live in fur and hair. The louse, of course. Fleas. And mites too. And…”
Shite! Was he talking to Lady Charlotte about head lice? Not just talking but babbling.
The excess heat in Matthew’s body transformed into an embarrassed flush. Yet to his surprise, Lady Charlotte did not look disgusted but amused. Even more astonishing, her mirth did not appear at his expense but rather had a… dare he say… fond tinge to it.
“Don’t change anything about your coiffure.” Lady Charlotte winked. “I like fixing it too much.”
A brilliant grin still on her face, she jerked her neck to indicate for him to follow her back out onto the dais. More than a bit stunned, he complied. Dimly, he heard her introduce him and his book to the gathered throng. This time, when he looked upon the faces, he only saw a blur, while heady excitement filled him.
By smoothing back his errant lock, Lady Charlotte hadmiraculously quieted the jumble of anxiety spiraling through Matthew. He grasped his copy ofFerus Cattus of Caledoniain his hand and offered the audience a hint of a smile.
Lady Charlotte Lovett enjoyed straightening his hair, and she hadn’t minded him jawing on about lice.
Matthew’s grin grew just a wee bit broader.
Chapter Six
Matthew proved to be an unforeseen delight as a speaker. Charlotte had not expected the reticent man to be so animated, especially talking about the secret life of a woodland creature. Yet his affection for the wildcat added a surprising charm to his speech. Unlike when he had attended the salon years ago, he did not stumble over his words.
