“I did.”
William gestured to the burned-out workbench. “Then who made all of this stuff?”
Fiona found it hard to withhold her eye roll. “Idid. Being a woman does nae preclude me from also being a chemist.”
“A chemist that destroyed our third-best drawing room,” Charlotte said, snippily.
William nudged his sister. “Come now, Charlie. It wasn’t ourthirdbest. More like our fifth or sixth, and she ruined that god-ugly portrait of Great-Aunt Gertrude. Nice work there, Finn.” William paused. “Can I still call you Finn?”
“If ye wish,” Fiona said. She crossed the room and collapsed into a nearby armchair. It had been one hell of a night. Edward stood behind her, a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“How did you learn how to do it? All of this match stuff?” Charlotte asked, her face alive with curiosity. “My governess never taught me anything useful.”
“Lots of reading. But mostly my teacher, John. When he wasn’t working on his engines, he was teaching me math, physics, chemistry.”
“John Barnesworth?” Charlotte asked, her voice cracking.
“Jealous, Charlie?” William asked, poking her in the ribs. Charlotte flushed a crimson red.
Fiona cocked her head, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. Behind her, Edward cleared his throat, displeased.
“Charlie has had a crush on John since she was eight years old,” William explained.
“William!” Charlotte slapped his arm. “That is a complete fabrication. How dare you concoct such a falsehood.”
He chuckled. “I read your diary.”
Charlotte gasped. “You fiend.”
While the two bickered, Fiona mulled the pairing over.Charlotte and John.
She had never pictured John with a love interest. Where Benedict and the other men at the firm would playfully flirt with the barmaids at the local tavern, John didn’t go to taverns. He worked. He was at the firm at least twelve hours a day, often longer.
“What do you think, Finn?” William asked. “Has Charlie got a shot?”
“John is not an acceptable match,” Edward said sharply. “Not for you.”
Pardon?John was the second son to the Viscount Harrow. He was a kind and thoughtful man. Where most men would have dismissed Fiona outright, John took the time to teach her. She would still be sweeping floors if it hadn’t been for his generosity.
Before she could come to her mentor’s defense, Charlotte leapt in. “I thought you liked John,” she said. “He’s your friend.”
Edward rubbed his brow. “John is one of the best men I know. But the two of you are complete opposites. He’s a man who seeks quiet. You are the furthest thing from that.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open, her cheeks ablaze with outrage. “Are you calling me a loudmouth?”
William snickered, clearly enjoying his brother’s discomfort as Edward turned his eyes toward the ceiling.
“No, Char. You are perfect.”
William snickered even more loudly, but Edward ignored him. “You’re simply not perfect for him.”
Charlotte’s expression took on the muleheaded stubbornness Fiona had seen on Edward many a time, so Fiona interjected before the argument—which was over an entirely hypothetical situation—escalated.
“Regardless, John’s in America and is nae likely to come home soon. According to his letters, he’s quite enjoying life over there.” And she was happy for him; she truly was. And if it hurt that he, too, had left her…well, at least he’d said a proper good-bye beforehand and wrote regularly.
“And with any luck,” William said. “He hasn’t blown anything up. Unlike someone else…”
Edward scowled. “That isn’t funny.”
