“That you certainly are.” The solemnly spoken words slipped from Matthew’s mouth before he could stop them. A deucedly awkward silence descended as everyone stared at him. Tavish’s gray eyes were especially piercing, and Matthew shifted his weight from one leg to another.
Thankfully, Lady Charlotte ended the horrid hush with one of her magnanimous smiles. “Why thank you, Dr. Talbot. Whether oddity, peculiarity, or originality, it is clear that one of my unique traits is the ability to soothe Banshee. If you are to separate her from her newly beloved Pan, my presence might make the carriage ride to Mr. Stewart’s estate much less alarming for the poor dear.”
Devil take it, Matthew had thought the intervening conversation had managed to distract Lady Charlotte from her sudden, intractable desire to visit Tavish’s home. Instead, she had just manipulated the discussion back to her benefit.
Alexander straightened, pushing downward on his cane. “Are you going to visit Mr. Stewart’s menagerie? It has been ages since I’ve visited. It sounds like grand fun.”
With a triumphant grin, Lady Charlotte hooked her elbow through her brother’s free arm. Matthew’s heart plummeted, and he tried to catch Tavish’s gaze in some hope that they could divert the powerful force that was Lady Charlotte. But he was too late.
“Mr. Stewart and Dr. Talbot were worried about my accompanying them without a chaperone, but now that you are here, I see no reason why we cannot join them.”
“It sounds like a marvelous plan. What say you, Mr. Stewart, Dr. Talbot? Shall we depart for Ravenshall as soon as we can pry apart the sweethearts?” Alexander asked as he glanced significantly toward Banshee and Pan.
Matthew barely suppressed a groan. They had no excuse now. If he and Tavish denied the twins’ request, not only would they increase Lady Charlotte’s suspicion but they would trigger Alexander’s as well. As much as Alexander bounced from passion to passion, once he had set his mind upon something, he was terribly tenacious. He and Lady Charlotte would be liable to show up completely unannounced at Tavish’s home, which would be even more catastrophic than a hastily planned visit.
“I would be delighted to host you and your sister,” Tavish said, somehow managing to sound truly honored. Matthew could never have managed such a welcoming tone without even a hint of frustration or panic.
“I best deliver the rest of this coffee,” Hannah said cheerfully. Matthew did not miss the silent exchange between her and Tavish. Sure enough, after dropping off the mugs to the patrons, she disappeared into her private quarters… most likely to dispatch a messenger to warn Tavish’s staff of their impending arrival.
Matthew still could not escape a sense of doom. Not for the first time, he swore he could feel the rough rope of the hangman’s noose about his neck. Some days it felt looser, and some days it grew tighter. And right now, it was damn near to choking him.
Chapter Ten
Mr. Stewart, Hannah, and Matthew were all hiding something. Charlotte was certain of it. Whether it also involved Viscount Hawley was less clear—or maybe Charlotte just wanted it to be less clear. As much as she needed proof of Hawley’s villainous nature, she found herself hoping that neither her cousin nor Matthew were involved. Over the past handful of weeks, Charlotte hadn’t exactly begun a friendship with Hannah, but she’d observed her co-proprietresses enough to admire both Hannah and Sophia for their industriousness.
Matthew had begun to occupy Charlotte’s mind since her conversation with Lady Greenvale… and not just because Charlotte was trying to untangle his motivations for warning the countess to quit talking about the mysterious choker. The mere thought of Matthew had started to send a giddy sensation spiraling through her.
It certainly made sitting across from him in Mr. Stewart’s carriage an interesting experience. Charlotte wished she could attribute the odd ripples in her heart to the monkey currently curled up on her lap or to the masked three-legged creature staring at her with bright black eyes. Her palpitations, however, had everything to do with sharing tight quarters with someone who elicited so many conflicting feelings. Matthew was a shy yet bold adventurer. When he spoke, his voice was always soft and low, but it heldher attention like no other. And most of all, her soul instinctually trusted Matthew, even while her brain churned with reasons to distrust him. He was the brother of the man she was being forced to wed—an attraction to him could only cause them both pain, yet still, desire kept bubbling up inside her.
A tiny hand patted Charlotte’s cheek, pulling her from her reverie. Banshee tilted her head curiously and curled back her lips into a grimace-smile that showed both teeth and gums. The little monkey looked so ridiculous with her furry cheeks puffed out that Charlotte laughed.
“Banshee is indeed smitten with you,” Matthew said, his voice that lovely mix of deep and mellow.
Charlotte glanced at him, and once again wondered how gray eyes could simmer with such delicious fire. The heat settled in her chest, and for a moment, she found her breath gone.Smitten.The word seemed to hang in the very air between them, like a tempting sweet that neither of them were ready to taste.
“There is Ravenshall in all its glory!” Alexander—oblivious as always to the undercurrent that he was interrupting—nudged Charlotte and pointed out her window. Banshee scolded him for jostling them, but Charlotte barely registered the sound. She was too busy staring at the looming edifice.
It was grand and new, with Corinthian columns and large sash windows that caught the light and tossed it back as if in defiance of the dreaded window tax. Built of stone with a faint yellow-brown cast, it exuded a warmth despite its perfect geometric precision. It was at once austere yet welcoming—a bit like its owner.
“It does make me think of the ancient buildings that I saw during my Grand Tour on the Continent,” Alexander said, mentioning one of the few luxuries his parents had allowed and only because it was necessary to keep up social appearances. “Yet there is something undeniably English about it.”
“Scottish,” Mr. Stewart corrected mildly.
“Ah, yes,” Alexander said. “It was designed by the late William Adam from Edinburgh, was it not?”
“Aye,” Mr. Stewart said, his voice pleasant, yet betraying nothing. What made the gentleman so inclined to secretiveness?
Charlotte leaned toward the window, as if examining the exterior of the man’s residence would somehow reveal his innermost life. Not wanting to be caught gawking, she lifted Banshee in her arms and made a show of pointing out the Palladian structure. “What do you think of your new home?”
Banshee curled back her upper lip and made a decidedly unimpressed chitter. It was most likely due to Charlotte adjusting her position, but Mr. Stewart, Matthew, and Alexander laughed heartily. Charlotte gave a perfunctory titter, but her focus was on the curious array of outbuildings, almost obscured by giant oaks. The rest of the mansion and the manicured lawn with its symmetrical plantings adhered to current fashion, but courts ringed with edifices were becoming a relic of the past. Even more unusual, the side structures—although pleasing to the eye—did not mirror each other. They were orderly arranged, but in the way of buildings at Oxford or Cambridge. One seemed almost as grand as Ravenshall, with smaller yet more prolific windows. It was certainly not a typical mews. Very few of the constructions looked like stables, and one even reminded her a bit of a utilitarian factory of sorts.
Charlotte leaned back against the squabs, making sure to assume a perfectly pleasant mien that displayed only a hint of polite curiosity. “Despite Banshee’s commentary, you have a wonderful home, Mr. Stewart. You have done a good job of blending new with old. You have the most unique collection of structures around the back. I see you are not chained to the current trend of perfect symmetry.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Stewart’s smile was as frustratingly prosaic as her own. “Although I enjoy the simplicity of repetition in current architecture, I do not feel bound by restraints when it does not suit my purposes.”
Mr. Stewart’s lips remained tilted in that annoyingly vague half grin, but Charlotte did not miss the flinty undercurrent. Interesting. He might think a stony tone would cause her to shy away like a startled rabbit, but then again, he didn’t realize that he wasn’t the predator who frightened her the most.
“What is that peculiar building?” Charlotte pointed in the direction of a comparatively low-roofed structure with a rosy brick exterior rather than a stone facade. “It does not seem to fit with the others.”
