“Beast with two backs!” Pan screamed and then cackled to himself. “Beast with two backs!”
“I wish our strategy didn’t involve Charlotte risking her reputation by feigning a dalliance with me.” Matthew heaved out a sigh as he prepared himself for the debacle he was about to create.
Alexander arched a single auburn eyebrow. “Feigning? I am not sure if you fully understand the meaning of that word.”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Pan screeched.
Matthew shot Alexander a glare. “This is not the time for quips. You know your sister means to provoke Hawley’s wrath.”
“How else do you expect to lay a trap? Nothing will infuriate Hawley more than you stealing his betrothed. His rage will make him reckless.”
Before Matthew could respond, Alexander rapped to announce their presence. When the distinguished butler opened the door, he regarded them with politeness so stiff it verged on censure.
“We’re here to sup with my parents and sister,” Alexander proclaimed with a jovial grin.
The man’s already narrow lips thinned even more. “I am afraid the duke and the duchess are not at hom—”
Alexander did not permit the servant to finish. He strategically angled his cane so that if the manservant stepped forward, he would trip over it. Alexander pushed past the tall fellow and made his way down the massive hallway as quickly as his foot and uneven stride would allow. Matthew followed as Pan screeched out hideous guffaws from his perch on Matthew’s shoulder.
“My lord!” The butler managed to infuse his voice with both contrition and condescension.
“No need to show us the way. I know, even if I rarely take meals with the family.” Alexander continued plowing forward, the ferrule of the cane beating a rapid tattoo against the floor.
“No need!” Pan called gleefully. “No need!”
“Your parents—” the manservant started to say, but Alexander had already pushed open the door to the dining room.
Pan decided at that moment to fly from Matthew’s shoulder. Soaring straight past Alexander, he called out as if he were the host, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!”
The first person Matthew spotted was his brother. Looking even more cocksure than King George himself, the pompous ass lounged in a chair next to Charlotte. And why wouldn’t Hawley be confident? He had the power, the money, and the unearned deference despite the nasty rumors that swirled about him like overly sweet, fetid fruit. Matthew wanted to strut up and plant a facer straight in the viscount’s smiling mug.
But Matthew couldn’t.
And he feared it wasn’t just because it would spoil the scheme Charlotte had so cleverly crafted. His brother held a power over him that Matthew couldn’t completely break.
“What are you doing here?” The Duke of Lansberry rose from his seat, his patrician face white as he looked between Pan and Matthew. He probably regarded the parrot as some sort of familiar. The man had instigated so much of Matthew’s boyhood suffering, yet he was the one who was afraid. If Matthew had magical powers, wouldn’t he have spirited himself away years ago?
“Oh, I am to blame for their presence,” Charlotte said cheerfully as Pan landed on her head. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she merely lifted her eyes vaguely in the direction of the bird. “Why good evening, Pan. Your feathered presence is always a delight.”
Hawley glared at Pan like the creature was his mortal enemy while Matthew’s father not so subtly started moving his chair away. The Duke of Falcondale stared at his wife with the clear command for her to fix the situation. Even the salon hostess’s legendary composure seemed shaken as abject horror cracked her ever-present half smile.
“What,” the Duchess of Falcondale began to say, her voice abnormally shrill. She paused and then swallowed. Her lips smoothed into a placid line. When she spoke next, her tone matched her pleasant expression. “What do you mean, Charlotte dear?”
“You told me we were going to host the Duke of Lansberry andhis esteemed son. I assumed that you meant Dr. Talbot, so I sent him a letter inviting him to supper tonight.”
“Whyever.” Matthew’s father slid his chair farther away. “Would you.” Scrape. “Think.” Scrape. Scrape. “That.”
Pan cocked his head, watching the Duke of Lansberry with extreme interest. Matthew inched closer to his father, hoping to divert the bird if it flew at the nobleman. Unfortunately, that only made the duke more nervous. Glancing worriedly at Matthew, he scooched his chair backward now, instead of just to the side.
“Why would I not be confused as to which offspring Mother meant?” Charlotte was the picture of guilelessness. “Your youngest son is exceedingly learned. I’m sure you must have read his books. After his lecture at the salon, I have devoured each one.”
“I do not read such unnatural drivel.” Matthew’s father spoke distractedly, his attention solely on Pan. The parrot twisted its neck at a seemingly impossible angle and stared upside down at Lansberry.
“Your son writes about flora and fauna. I cannot think of anything more natural than that.” Charlotte sounded truly confused, and Matthew could only hope that his father did not blurt out that he believed his son to be a changeling. Matthew never wanted Charlotte to know the true pain and humiliation of his childhood.
“Why does that bird keep staring at me?” Lansberry breathed out the words.
“Father, it is just a parrot.” Hawley sounded annoyed. Although he’d taken advantage of the duke’s fears to torment Matthew, he’d always disdained his father’s weakness. Perhaps it was why he’d transformed any insecurities of his own into cruelty.
