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She lifted her chin. “No, you may not. Where is the coach? I’d like to see my uncle as soon as possible.”
Mr. Wetherby gave her a wide-eyed stare, then quickly recovered. “This way.”
He escorted her and Valentina to a hackney carriage. “Your uncle did not want anyone to see the family crest,” he explained once they were inside. “So far we have been able to suppress all news of your little diversion.” His lips curved ever so slightly on the last word.
Blast.
Yet another failure. At least she had been properly ruined. Uncle Alfred would learn the truth soon enough. Or most of it.
Lottie looked out the window. Nothing but swarms of people, polluted air, and a dull, gray sky. She hadn’t missed this one bit. “I hope your aunt enjoyed the rest of her trip.”
Mr. Wetherby clicked his tongue. “She is happy to know that you aresafe, Miss Carlisle. She is an old woman and you gave her quite a scare.”
Lottie bit her lip. Now that there was some distance between them, she was feeling a little more charitable toward her chaperone. “I am sorry for that. I would like to write to her and apologize, if you think she will welcome it.”
She cast a cautious glance at Mr. Wetherby. His usual expression of contempt had softened to something that looked an awful lot like interest. “Yes. I think she would appreciate the gesture,” he murmured. Lottie was the first to break their gaze.
The silence stretched as they inched toward her uncle’s South Kensington town house. She let out an impatient sigh. London traffic. Another thing she hadn’t missed.
“I trust Mr. Gresham was a gentleman?” Mr. Wetherby asked as he leaned toward her. “I know of his reputation,” he added in a low tone so Valentina wouldn’t overhear.
Lottie’s eyes snapped to his. The man was serious. “If you harbored such doubts about his character, I wonder why he was even sent to fetch me in the first place.”
Mr. Wetherby sat back against the seat. “I wanted to go myself, but your uncle thought Mr. Gresham would find you faster. That took precedence.” His mouth set in a grimace. “I suppose he was right.”
“You wanted to assist your aunt?” It was the only reason she could think of. As far as she knew, Mr. Wetherby had never left England.
He stared at her with those unsettling blue eyes. “If that is easier for you to accept at the moment, then yes. I wanted to travel a thousand miles in order to escort myaunthome.” Then he turned away.
Could Mr. Wetherby really be insinuating that he had feelings? For her? It wasn’t anything she wished to confirm.
The carriage then mercifully arrived at the imposing town house. It was merely one of several Uncle Alfred owned. The Lewis family coffers were quite sizable, but it was the business of secrets that kept him in such luxury. A shiver rippled through Lottie as she crossed over the threshold. She had never liked this house and vastly preferred Haverford, with its lush grounds and warm furnishings. It was there that she had first met Alec, where they spent holidays, and it had been the setting for so many of her happiest memories.
The town house was made to cater to the London social set. Remarkable objects from Uncle Alfred’s priceless collection amassed over his lifetime could be found in every room announcing to all who entered that its master was powerful. Important. Irreproachable. But the house had always felt cold to Lottie. Even at the height of summer.
Dalton, the ancient butler, offered them a characteristically stoic greeting. “Miss Carlisle. I trust you had a pleasant trip to the continent. Lovely to have you home.”
“Thank you, Dalton,” Lottie smiled. “I’ve acquired a maid along the way. Can you send Valentina to Mrs. Houston?”
Before the butler could answer, Mr. Wetherby pulled her aside. “Mrs. Houston remains at the house in Surrey. Only a skeleton staff has been kept on. Your uncle did not want his illness to become known.”
Lottie could not hide her shock. Her uncle was normally so exacting that he insisted Mrs. Houston keep house wherever he was in residence. That he would send her away now, when he was in such a state, was unimaginable.
“I will gladly show the young lady to your room, Miss Carlisle,” Dalton intoned behind them.
“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. Mr. Wetherby was already herding her toward the stairs. She briefly exchanged a glance with Valentina, whose worried brow only unsettled her further.
“Mrs. Houston should be here. Forgive me, but this makes no sense.”
Mr. Wetherby didn’t even look at her. “That isn’t your concern.”
Lottie gritted her teeth. This cloak-and-dagger business was becoming ridiculous. Over the last few years, Uncle Alfred had constantly worried about his influence. If it were anyone else, they would have been calledparanoid. But not Uncle Alfred. He merely claimed to be cautious. It was exhausting.
They made their way down the darkened hallway toward her uncle’s suite of rooms. Mr. Wetherby paused by the door. “You should prepare yourself, Miss Carlisle,” he warned. “By all accounts your uncle has made a remarkable recovery, but he is still much changed. He has lost the use of his right arm and his speech is slurred at times, particularly in the evening hours.”
Guilt swelled in her chest. Over the last few days she had barely thought of her uncle with anything other than anger. “I see.”
Mr. Wetherby began to soften ever so slightly, but then he caught himself and stood even straighter. “I’m afraid I can allow only a short visit today. The best time to speak to him is in the mornings, as that is when he is most alert.”
