An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(35)

“What about Americans?” Megan asked, sneaking a glance at him to see how he would respond.

“Oh, yes, I’ve met a few Americans here and there. I’ve been to the United States. Not New York. I traveled from the Orient to San Francisco three or four years ago.”

“How did you like it?”

“A very interesting place. Raw and new and bustling. Rather like a lot of your country, I imagine.”

“I have never been west, myself,” Megan admitted.

“No interest in traveling?” he asked, slanting a look at her.

“No, it’s not that. Lack of opportunity, I suppose. And I enjoy what I do.”

“Teaching the children of wealth?”

“Oh. Well…it is always satisfying to impart knowledge.” Megan tried to think of what enjoyment teachers would get out of their job, since she had spoken unthinkingly of her feelings about her own career. “To mold young minds.”

“I see.”

Megan also realized that she had let the conversation slip away from the topic of Americans whom Theo had known. “What did you think of the Americans you met? Less formal than the British, I imagine.”

He nodded. “Yes. Quite friendly. At least most of them. Easy to get to know. Eager to help one out.”

Megan nodded, hoping that he would expand on the subject, but he seemed content to let it drop.

“Were they explorers, like yourself?” she prodded.

Theo shrugged. “Some of them. Most, I guess, were off ships. Or there buying goods to import.” He smiled. “Like Englishmen.”

Megan gritted her teeth, wondering if he was being purposefully evasive. She wished she could just ask pertinent questions, as she did when she was researching a story. Of course, he would scarcely admit to having killed an American, anyway. She decided to try another tack.

“It must be fascinating, exploring far away places,” she said. “You must have seen many wonderful things.”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled, remembering. “Temples, palaces, jungles. Extraordinary animals.”

“Like the ones you sent back to the twins.” He murmured agreement, and she went on, “I suppose you’ve probably brought back other things, as well. Silks from the Orient, for instance. Jade. Or precious stones. Artifacts from some ancient ruin.”

“Yes, some things. Especially products of the country. Not artifacts, really. I disagree with many Europeans’ habit of taking or buying the treasures of a country. Pieces of history and culture are irreplaceable and belong to that country. My father and I disagree in that regard. He has numerous pieces of ancient Greek and Roman art and artifacts in that collection room of his.”

“Collection room?” Megan repeated, interested. A collection room seemed like a perfect place to hide a treasure.

“Yes. If you’re interested in such things, I am sure he would be happy to show it to you. Of course, his contention is that if he did not buy the objects and bring them to England, someone else would, or they would be left to ruin or be looted by local thieves. And there is something to be said for that. No doubt many of the ancient treasures would be destroyed or lost if left where they were, and the countries where they are located are often in no position to preserve and display them properly. Certainly it is the common practice of archaeologists and such to bring back what they find for the men who have financed their expeditions. Still, it is a practice I dislike.”

“You have never brought back such things?” Megan asked, hoping that her question did not sound as skeptical as she felt.

He grinned at her. “I don’t claim to be a saint, Miss Henderson. Of course I have brought back some jewels and such. Kyria would never have forgiven me if I had not. But I have generally left any ruins I have traveled to intact. I don’t believe in taking something that I consider a national treasure, especially as I have gotten older and gained more knowledge and experience.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is a meaningless distinction. Besides, I have to admit that, frankly, I am less interested in such things than my father. Far easier to be virtuous in that case.”

As she was still trying to frame a question that would not give away her interest in what he had brought back with him from his trip up the Amazon, they reached the door of her bedroom. There was little Megan could do but turn to him and smile politely.

“Thank you for seeing me up to my room,” she said.

“I can assure you with all honesty that it was my pleasure,” Theo responded.

He looked down at her, his green eyes gazing deep into hers in a way that made Megan feel distinctly breathless. She could feel an unaccustomed heat rising in her cheeks, and she hoped that he could not see the betraying blush in the light cast by the wall sconces.

Theo reached down and took her hand in his. Megan’s heart sped up. She wished that she could think of something, anything, to break the moment, but she could only stand numbly, watching him, as he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her fingers. His lips were warm and soft against her skin, and her fingers trembled at the touch, heat corkscrewing down through her torso and pooling in her loins.

“Good night, Miss Henderson. Sweet dreams.”

Megan had to clear her throat before she was able to answer. “Good night.”

She snatched her hand away from his and hurried into her room, closing the door behind her.