“Were you thinking of Mr. Stewart?”
Always,Meg thought, but she shook her head. “Is he here?” Meg asked, glancing around. “Did he accompany his cousin to the opening?”
“No, but Mrs. MacBain—she is here somewhere—said that Mr. Stewart arrived a few days ago and is staying with them. They have a house near Calton Hill.”
Relieved for now that he was not in the museum, Meg knew she could easily encounter him at any time in the city through some social connection. Roderick had said he was meeting with Dougal today. For now, she could relax.
But she had to tell him the truth before her soiree. Wondering what Roderick might tell him today, she felt fear rush through her.
“I heard that Mr. Stewart has lost funding for his lighthouse,” Angela said. “There is a rumor that he could be personally ruined over this fiasco.”
“Oh no! I was told that withholding the funding would discourage the work on the reef. I was never told it might damage him personally.”
“Mr. Hamilton explained to me that Mr. Stewart’s project cannot recover from serious financial damage, and his name might be dragged down with it. Your solicitors have more than achieved their goal. That lighthouse may never go up, and the engineer may be done as well.”
Feeling sick, Meg strolled beside Angela with outward calm, though she quaked inside. The weight of her secrets could cost her everything. She had never imagined Dougal would be seriously impacted if the lighthouse did not go forward.
She had to see him, and soon.
“Angela,” she said, making an impulsive decision, “there is something I must do later this evening, after supper. I will need your help.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Mr. Stewart!” Atall gentleman in a black suit and wine-colored vest waved, seated alone at a table in the dim interior of Brodie’s Tavern on the High Street. “Thank you for meeting me here.” Rising for a moment, he extended his hand.
“Sir Roderick,” Dougal said, taking his hand. He had met Matheson once, and had recognized him in the crowded public room.
“I ordered two bowls of mutton stew, if you like. Ale as well.”
“Thank you.” Sitting, Dougal glanced at the man across from him. A pleasant enough fellow, perhaps close to fifty, a man of obvious means by his well-cut clothing and gold watch. His graying hair was combed smooth, his sideburns and mustache stylishly clipped, and his dark-brown eyes were shrewd.
“I am glad you wrote to me via the Northern Lighthouse Commission,” Dougal said. He smiled his thanks as a serving girl set down steaming bowls of stew, fresh bread rolls, and two glasses of ale.
“You are not an easy man to find.” Matheson sipped ale and patted his lips with a napkin.
“I move about a bit. The work, you see. I heard you were recently on Caransay, though. Had I known sooner, I could have shown you around the site of the lighthouse.”
“Next time I am there, perhaps. It was a quick visit to see someone on the island. The journey out there from Edinburghis deuced complicated, traveling by carriage, train, and boat. I do not always have the time.” He picked up his fork. “But I am curious about what you’ve been up to on my property, the Isle of Guga. By now you’ve probably dug a right-size hole in it.”
“More careful than that, but we did quarry some excellent gray granite there. We transported the stones to Sgeir Caran to build the foundation for the lighthouse.”
“Ah. I am interested in your progress.” Matheson tasted the stew and curled his lip slightly. “Ah. Good, though the vegetables are somewhat plebeian.”
Having no quarrel with the dish, Dougal ate in silence for a moment. “Thank you for your permission to work on Guga. The Commission is also grateful for your offer to donate to the lighthouse fund.”
“And so we come to your reason for this meeting,” Matheson said.
“For my part, though I wonder why you asked to meet,” Dougal said cautiously.
“I understand you have come upon hard times, both with your project and your charming enemy.”
“If you mean Lady Strathlin, I am not sure of her charm, though I can attest to her hard nature—or perhaps that of her lawyers.”
“They are a tough lot, I agree. Though the lady is rather winsome.”
Dougal frowned. “Is she? Her advocates are a conniving bunch. My project will be greatly delayed, even cancelled, if they have their way.”
“What is the current state of things?”
