“Perhaps we should move on,” Matthew said. “Nemea’s presence seems to be upsetting Banshee.”
Matthew was trying to distract her again, but Charlotte had no intention of forgetting about Seamus and John. As she stepped back from the sunken wall, she feigned allowing the change in topic.
“What is a jaguar?” Charlotte asked, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word.
“It is the largest cat of the New World,” Matthew said. “It is spotted like the leopards you have seen at the Tower but more muscular and with incredibly strong jaws.”
“Are they as naughty as the Tower’s leopards?” Charlotte asked. The felines had a reputation for stealing and chewing hats and other articles of clothing.
“More dangerous according to the locals in South America,” Matthew said. “They say that jaguars hunt by crushing their victim’s skulls and piercing the brain with their teeth. I analyzed bones during my travels there several years ago, which lends veracity to the tales.”
An unbidden chill slipped through Charlotte. What a dastardly creature! It sounded as merciless as Hawley. It was a distressingly unwelcome reminder of just the kind of villain Charlotte was attempting to trap. Yet she’d find herself pulverized between the viscount’s jaws for certain if she did nothing.
“Mr. Stewart is not in a possession of a jaguar?” Charlotte asked.
Matthew shook his head. “I did glimpse one while in SouthAmerica, but I only sketched it. Neither Mr. Stewart nor I wish to capture an animal that is thriving in the wild. It seems a cruelty.”
A powerful surge of emotion erupted inside Charlotte as she imagined Matthew crouched in the leafy, dark jungle, furiously trying to portray the predator’s power with deft strokes in graphite. Yet she could not afford to picture him as the quiet adventurer, not when she was practically engaged to his brother and unsure of his involvement with Hawley’s rumored crimes. Pushing away the image of Matthew in the New World, she asked, “If you were to acquire a jaguar, then Seamus and John would design its pen?”
Matthew’s jaw twitched, but other than that his expression remained steady. “Aye. That would be the way of it.”
Before Charlotte could decide if she could make another inquiry without bringing too much suspicion upon herself, the chittering of monkeys wafted toward them. With an air of relief, Matthew returned the conversation to the capuchin on her hat. “Do you hear that, Banshee? That’s your new family.”
Charlotte could no longer feel little feet frolicking on the bergère’s straw, and worry for the monkey stripped away her resolve to question Matthew further. She cast her eyes upward but could only see the wide brim. Several pieces haphazardly hung down—evidence of Banshee’s previous dancing—but there was no sign of the actual capuchin.
“What is she doing?” Charlotte asked.
“She’s frozen stiff and just listening,” Matthew said, worry lowering his voice even more. “I am not sure if it is in anticipation or fear. She has not been around others of her kind since she was a wee bairn.”
“Banshee?” Charlotte called in a singsong voice.
Immediately, a tiny, worried faced peeked below Charlotte’s hat. The entire brim sagged under the monkey’s weight, and soon her concerned black eyes were level with Charlotte’s.
“Come here, darling,” Charlotte crooned as she held out the arm not holding Matthew’s elbow. Banshee immediately jumped on her shoulder and cuddled against her neck.
“You certainly do have a connection with Banshee. She is rarely this calm,” Matthew said, his beautifully resonate voice catching and then reverberating in Charlotte’s chest.
“Oh, she is a little sweetheart.” Charlotte gazed at the adoring white face trimmed in brown and black. She had better sense than to glance at Matthew. If the look in his gray eyes matched his tone, she was sorely afraid all her resolve against the man would melt away.
The sound of the other monkeys grew louder, and Banshee trembled.
“Are you certain she will be happy with the rest of the troop?” Charlotte asked quickly. “What if they hurt her?”
Matthew laid his hand over hers again. This time, Charlotte was startled by the strength she drew from the simple gesture.
“I would not put a new chicken into a coop without introducing it properly to the flock first. Rest assured I will treat Banshee with equal care.” Matthew pressed the tips of his fingers ever so slightly against her knuckles. “See how the outdoor cage is divided?”
Charlotte, who had practically tucked her chin against her chest to snuggle Banshee, looked up to find an intricate wooden structure that reminded her of a giant birdcage. It was connected to an elegantly appointed stone building with wide south-facing windows. Through the glass, Charlotte caught sight of exotic-looking fronds. The north end of the structure was built into a sturdy wall, likely to provide insulation.
“Is that an orangery?” Charlotte asked excitedly. She simply adored hothouses and their unique array of flora from far-flung lands.
“Aye,” Matthew said. “It is full of trees and plants that are nativeto the monkeys’ homeland. The capuchins are free to go in and out as they please through the upper transoms.”
Charlotte glanced up and saw two tiny faces almost identical to Banshee’s peering out of one of the narrow horizontal windows. The white tuffs on their cheeks seemed to flare as they cried out in excited gibberish. Two other monkeys huddled together on the limb of an ash tree, their dark bodies contrasting with the bright spring-green leaves. All four capuchins stared intently at Banshee, who was alternating between peeking at her brethren and hiding her eyes against Charlotte’s neck.
“Come,” Matthew said, opening the door to the orangery.
A blast of sweetly scented humid heat crashed into Charlotte. In only two steps, she traveled from familiar England to a distant land filled with tantalizing smells and wonderous pigments. The heat should have been oppressive, but it had the opposite effect. She felt as if it lifted her up and spun her around in a whirl of spiced scents. The broad-leaved trees with their narrow bare trunks cast dark shadows on the floor, so different from the dappled effect of the native English foliage. Orchids and other flowers brought splashes of color to the otherwise green world.
