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 are safe, 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 my aunt home.” 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.