An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(58)

This could not continue, she knew. She had to get control of herself. The only question was how.

Sighing, she undressed and stood for a moment, savoring the feeling of the air on her naked flesh. It was distinctly unnerving, she thought, to know that she wished Theo were there with her. Heat pooled deep in her loins at the thought of him watching her.

Feeling decidedly wanton, she did not pull on her nightdress immediately, but moved about the room as she was, putting away her clothes and brushing through her hair. Finally she slipped on her nightgown and lay down. The window was open, admitting the soft summer breeze. Moonlight slanted in, silvering the furniture and carpet, and Megan lay staring at it, thinking of what had happened tonight.

It was a long, long time before she slept.



*

MEGAN WAS CAREFUL to keep out of Theo’s way the next day. She oversaw the twins’ lessons, which were always light on Saturday, giving them the afternoon off to do as they wished. The duke and duchess were attending the opera with Reed and Anna, and they were all four dining beforehand at Kyria’s house, so the twins were eating supper in the nursery, and Megan was able to join them there. She worried throughout the day that Theo might come into the nursery to visit with the twins, but as it turned out, he did not—a circumstance that, she admitted to herself, left her feeling both relieved and perversely disappointed.

The next morning she ate a hurried breakfast and left, walking briskly to the house her father had rented. It would be wonderful, she told herself, to be out and free of responsibility. To be able to be herself again. It was somewhat disconcerting to find that as she walked, she spent most of her time thinking not about being with her family again, but about what she was going to tell them about the Morelands—more specifically, Theo.

Of course, she could not let them get a hint of anything that had happened between her and Theo. Da would explode and Deirdre would worry. And, she told herself, it wasn’t really pertinent to what she had learned, anyway.

A few blocks from Broughton House, as she cut through a small park, Megan became aware of an odd sensation, a sort of prickling along the nape of her neck. She told herself not to be foolish, but she could not dismiss the feeling that she was being watched.

She picked up her pace, crossing a street and walking rapidly to the major thoroughfare that ran perpendicular to the one she was on. There she turned and slowed down, idling along, looking into the windows of the shops along the way. She stopped at a millinery store and sneaked a look back down the street. There were one or two people strolling along the street behind her, as well as a man who was gazing into a store window himself. None of the people looked out of the ordinary, and certainly none of them were looking at her.

It was nonsense, she told herself, just her nerves. After all, who would be following her? No one in London knew her except the Morelands and their servants, and she was certain that none of the people behind her were any of the residents of Broughton House. She knew that Theo had suspicions about her—how could he not, after the other night?—but he was nowhere around.

Megan turned and started down the street again, relieved to find that the odd feeling had dissipated. When she arrived home, she found her father and sister sitting in the kitchen, tucking into a hearty breakfast, having just returned from early mass.

“Megan!” Deirdre cried, jumping up from the table and coming to hug her. “I’ve missed you. It’s been so long.”

Megan smiled fondly at her younger sister. She had never before been away from Deirdre for as long as two weeks. “I know. I missed you, too.” She hugged Deirdre and turned to her father. “Da.”

“Ah, Megan, me love, it’s good to see you again. I cannot help but worry about you in that den of vipers.”

“They’re not all vipers, Da,” Megan felt compelled to say. “The duchess is a very nice woman. They all are, really. And I truly like the twins.”

“Megan, me love, what are you saying?” Frank Mulcahey regarded his daughter with something akin to horror. “Have you let those British bastards corrupt ye?”

“No, of course not. Don’t look at me like that,” Megan replied, and sat down at the table with a sigh. “Deirdre, I would dearly love some coffee, if you have it. I am heartily sick of tea.”

“Of course you are. Here.” Deirdre patted Megan’s shoulder sympathetically and went to pour her sister a cup of coffee, saying over her shoulder, “Da, stop badgering Megan. I am sure she has a good reason for saying what she did. After all, just because Theo Moreland is wicked, it doesn’t necessarily mean his whole family is.”

“His father’s an English duke,” Mulcahey replied, as if that settled the matter.

Megan rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t make him wicked, Da. Trust me, I am sure that the Duke of Broughton has never done anything to harm anyone, including the Irish. He is a sweet man who is interested in nothing but his ancient pots and statues.” At her father’s doubtful look, she said, “I promise. If you met them, you would realize that it’s true. They are not at all what I expected. They don’t act like aristocrats. They are friendly and down-to-earth. I feel wicked deceiving them—and it’s going to be even worse when I expose Theo.”

“Are you still planning to do that?” Mulcahey asked.

“Da!” Megan’s eyes flashed. “How can you ask that? As if I would give up on our plan.”