Page 65 of Taming the Heiress
"Are you thinking of Mr. Stewart?"
Always,Meg thought, but she did not dare say it.
"Dr. MacBain's wife told me that Mr. Stewart is her cousin. A most interesting coincidence!" Angela nodded.
"Is he here?" Meg asked urgently, glancing around. "Did he accompany his relations to the opening?"
"No. Apparently Mr. Stewart had a previous appointment today. Mrs. MacBain said that he rode up on the train a few days ago. He is staying with them on Calton Hill."
Dougal was in Edinburgh already. Somehow she had irrationally expected him to simply appear for her soiree. Of course he would be here now. She might see him at any time, through a number of social connections.
Even knowing he was not in the museum, she glanced frantically around, looking for those broad shoulders, that glint of brown, sun-gilded hair. She wanted desperately to see him again, but she felt a sense of unshakable dread fill her at the same time.
She had to tell him the truth. She could not wait until the night of her soiree. If Dougal met with Frederick, there was no predicting what he might learn. Fear struck her with such force that she did not follow what Angela was saying.
"Dr. MacBain also said that Mr. Stewart has lost funding for his lighthouse. And there is a rumor that he will be personally ruined over this fiasco."
Meg turned. "Is that what Sir Frederick meant? Oh no! My soliciting firm informed me that they would find some way to delay his work, but I have not met with Sir Edward since my return. I understood that the plan was as yet only a plan. Oh no," she murmured anxiously.
"I thought you were a force behind the decision to revoke his funding, madam. Were you privy to any attempt to discredit him?"
"Never! Oh, never! I was told that delaying the funding was the only way to keep the work crews and construction off the island and the reef. I was never told it might damage his personal reputation."
"Well, it appears to have done just that," Angela said sternly. "Dr. MacBain fears that Mr. Stewart's project cannot recover from serious financial damage, and his name will be dragged down with it. Your solicitors have more than achieved their goal. That lighthouse may never go up, and the engineer may be ruined as well."
Feeling a sickening ache of remorse, Meg strolled beside Angela, showing only outwardly calm. Inside she quaked.
She could no longer bear the weight of her secrets, for they would soon cost her everything. Now, because of her, Dougal stood to lose the lighthouse that meant so much to him, and his reputation, which meant even more.
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 17
"Sir Frederick? I am Dougal Stewart." Inside the dim, smoky interior of Brodie's Tavern on the High Street, Dougal found Matheson easily, although he had met the man only once. In the crowded public room, several groups of gentlemen were meeting for luncheon, engaged in conversation and eating. At one table a man sat alone, a black top hat beside him and a brass-headed cane leaned against the high-backed bench.
Matheson was a tall man wearing a black suit and a vest of wine-colored brocade. He rose to his feet cordially, his gold watch chain swinging as he offered his hand to Dougal.
"Mr. Stewart! Thank you for meeting me here. Please sit down. I hoped you might join me for luncheon, so I ordered two plates of mutton stew in anticipation of your arrival. Beer, as well. The beer is particularly good in this place."
"Thank you." Dougal sat and briefly studied the man across from him. Matheson was a pleasant-looking man, in his mid-fifties or so, a man of obvious means judging by his expensive accessories and well-cut clothing. His graying hair was combed smooth, his long sideburns and mustache stylishly clipped, and his eyes were a very dark brown, unusually shrewd and piercing.
"I posted a letter to you recently while I was in the Isles, sir," Dougal said. He glanced up, smiling his thanks as a serving girl set down steaming plates of thick stew, two glasses of beer sloshing full, and a plate of bread rolls. "Once I arrived in Edinburgh, I was glad to learn of your desire to meet with me. A good idea, sir, to leave a message at the office of the Northern Lighthouse Commission."
"You are not an easy man to find." Matheson sipped some beer and patted his mustache with a cloth napkin.
"I understand that you were recently on Caransay, sir. Had I known, I would have taken time to show you around our quarry site on Guga and to show you the lighthouse site itself."
"Another time will do for that. I was there only for a quick visit to a good friend on the island. Generally I dislike traveling out there from Edinburgh. The journey is too deuced complicated, requiring different vehicles over land and sea. I prefer my life smoothed by convenience." He grinned amiably and gave his attention to eating.
"I understand. No doubt, however, you are curious about the state of your property out there."
"By now you've dug a right-size hole in it, I'll wager."
"We've quarried some excellent gray granite from your isle, sir. The stones have been transported to Sgeir Caran. Recently, we laid most of the foundation for the lighthouse."
"Ah. I am interested to see the progress of that remarkable erection. I plan to travel there again soon. I take a great deal of interest in that lighthouse."
