Instead of making her way toward Hawley, Charlotte stopped at Matthew’s side. The blazing look she bestowed upon him heated every fiber of Matthew’s being—corporeal and incorporeal. He wondered how he could have been fool enough to doubt the depth of her passion. He’d done both of them a disservice, one that he was more than willing to fix.
“If you desire it, Matthew, I propose that we unmask him together, as true partners.”
He did not hesitate. “Aye, as true partners.”
“What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Hawley angrily demanded.
“What do you think it means, you sapskull?” Hannah asked. With Pan perched on her shoulder, she walked forward and handed Charlotte a boot knife.
“Silly ol’ bird! Silly ol’ bird!” the bird cackled cheerfully.
Hawley glared at Charlotte. “Are you truly throwing me—the heir to a dukedom—over for a clodpated physician?”
Charlotte gave him a dry look. “Most assuredly, yes.”
Then she turned to Matthew. “Ready?”
“Aye,” he said, retrieving his own dagger.
Together they sliced through the cords securing Hawley’s mask, and the leather material slipped away. Sophia lifted one of the coach lanterns from its hook and held it up. The glow revealed Hawley’senraged countenance. The veins at his temples seemed engorged to near bursting, and the purple cast of his skin was evident even in the dull light. His gray eyes glittered with deadly venom.
He tossed back his head and tried to look untouchable, but for the first time, he wasn’t. Jutting his chin into an imperious angle, he asked Charlotte with a sneer, “What do you think Mat can offer you? Even his own father wanted to exchange him for a less odd son.”
But Hawley’s taunts no longer had the power to keep echoing relentlessly in Matthew’s mind. Instead, it was the memory of Charlotte’s earlier earnest words that blazed through him and settled his heart.
Because as incorrect as you are about what will make my life meaningful, you are right that we have no future until you trust that we can have a wonderful partnership.
Matthew ignored his brother and gazed into Charlotte’s eyes. His heart bursting with emotions he could no longer contain, Matthew repeated with complete assurance what Charlotte had earlier tried to tell him. “I can offer her happiness and support and, most of all, love.”
“Matthew!” The reverence with which Charlotte uttered his name reverberated through him. Her love swamped him, and he finally allowed himself to soak in the wonder of it.
Matthew stepped away from his brother. Her face awash with joy, Charlotte did the same. They only stopped when a scant inch separated them. Their bodies did not meet, but it sure felt like an embrace. Every inch of Matthew was touched by her very presence.
“You truly believe that we can be happy together? Both of us?” Charlotte asked.
Matthew nodded. Emotion billowed inside him, causing his throat to swell closed. He managed to push only an “aye” through his constricted muscles, but it was enough. Charlotte threw herarms around his neck, and then they were kissing—right there, in the middle of the road, in front of all their friends, two random dragoons, one ill-tempered parrot, and an irate Hawley.
“Has the world gone entirely mad?” Hawley roared.
“Bedlam! Bedlam!” Pan flew to the viscount’s head and began to dance in time with his own screeches. “Bedlam! Bedlam!”
Matthew gazed into Charlotte’s green eyes. “If this is madness, then I gladly submit to it.”
“As do I,” Charlotte breathed, and their lips met again.
“This is the oddest arrest I’ve ever attended to,” one of the dragoons said as he helped wrestle Hawley into the carriage to transport him to prison. As Hawley was forced to duck, Pan flapped his wings and soared over to Sophia’s shoulder.
“Bedlam! Bedlam!”
“It is the best thieftaking I’ve ever witnessed,” Sophia countered as she reached up to stroke the parrot’s chest. “And I’ve been to my share.”
“It is bang-up,” Hannah agreed, yelling over Hawley’s final shouts as the dragoons shut the door behind the three of them. Under the expert hands of Mr. Belle, the team pulled forward.
“I’ll send a carriage round shortly to collect you all from this happy ending,” Mr. Belle called to them, tipping his hat as he passed.
“Mr. Belle has the right of it. I couldn’t have written a better story, and I daresay neither could Mr. Powys,” Lady Calliope added as the dark night swallowed up the jet-black conveyance.
“On this point, I will not argue,” Mr. Powys agreed.
