“How are Eleanor and the children?” she asked, not in the least bit curious about her haughty sister-in-law and their three children, but driven out of politeness to ask.

“In the country, where they belong,” he snapped, his pale blue eyes returning to her. “So you trapped Carlisle good and proper, eh? Silly bitch, you probably think you’re clever, but you’ll soon learn better.”

“Ah, Matthew, you always have had such a grasp on the gentle art of social niceties. I’m glad to see that you haven’t lost that talent while I’ve been away.”

“Should have stayed in that damned country,” he spat, muttering an apology when he collided with another couple. “Any other woman would have been too ashamed to show her face in Society after she ran off with a foreigner, but not you. As proud as they come, and just as wild as ever, I’ll wager. Father should have beaten some humility into you. Then perhaps you’d have the decency to stay away from where you’re not wanted. But no, you must return and air the family’s dirty linen in public. Well, you’re getting your own now, ain’t you? I understand your husband hasn’t even bedded you. What a slap in the face that must be for you, eh? To know the man you trapped into marriage can’t harden his rod for you?”

“Lower your voice, brother,” Charlotte hissed through her teeth, forcing a smile to lips made stiff with anger. How dare he chastise her? How dare he judge her? What right did he have to say such odious things about Alasdair? “I will not debate this issue with you. I will not discuss my marriage or my husband with you.”

A slow, evil smile stole over his face. “Oh, I think you will. When the time is right.”

Charlotte shivered under the influence of his cold eyes on her, but smiled just because she knew it would irritate him. “What, exactly, do you mean by that melodramatic statement?”

His smile transmuted to a harsh bark of laughter that had many heads in the room turning to them. “You’ve made your bed, you stupid chit, now you’ll have to lie on it. By yourself, since you married a man milliner, but lie on it you will. Carlisle impotent, who would have thought? Ah, well, hear me, sister—it’ll do you no good to come to me for help when you discover the truth about the man you’ve married, no good a’tall.”

She knew Matthew was a swaggering braggart, a cowardly bully who preyed on men weaker than he, but she also knew well he had a cruel streak that would not bode well for either her or Dare if he should take it into his head to do them some harm. Despite her inclination to answer insult with insult, it was best for Dare that she should swallow her brother’s slurs and try to get to the bottom of his vague threats. Clearly the situation called for her to handle Matthew with the softest touch. She would be clever and very, very subtle. “Brother, you great boob, what are you blathering about? I know exactly the sort of man I married—one who is handsome and honorable and unlike you, can dance without stepping on his partner’s toes—so unless you have something specific to tell me, please cease with these shadowy immuendos.”