An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(71)

It seemed odd, but she turned and started quietly down. She reached the bottom and paused, looking cautiously about her.

She was in another hallway, this one much less well lit than the one upstairs had been. Candles burned in infrequent sconces up and down the hall, casting a flickering light and leaving much of the hallway in shadow. Megan was tempted to turn around and go back upstairs, but then she saw a man emerge from a room down the hall and turn the other way. It was Mr. Barchester.

Her curiosity piqued, she started after him. What in the world was he doing down in the basement? she wondered. He should be upstairs, looking after Deirdre. Had it been he she had glimpsed turning the corner, instead of Coffey?

Far in front of her, Barchester turned left into another room and closed the door after him. Megan slipped down the hall and paused a little way from the door, wondering what to do. Her curiosity was fully aroused now. What was one of the guests at the party doing wandering about in the basement?

As she stood there, she heard a noise. She stiffened, listening. It sounded…it sounded almost like someone crying softly. Megan frowned, turning slowly. Was it coming from behind her? From one of the closed rooms she had passed?

She started down the hall, moving as quietly as she could, listening for the faint sound. With all her attention on the soft crying, the sudden scrape of a heel behind her made her jump, and she started to whirl around. But before she could do more than glimpse a flash of black at the corner of her vision, something thudded hard into the back of her head. Pain exploded inside her, and she crumpled to the floor.





CHAPTER 14




“Megan?”

The voice came from far away, and Megan turned her head, wanting to bury her face in her pillow. But the voice would not let her sleep.

“Megan? Can you hear me?”

A hand stroked over her cheek, then picked up her arm and began to chafe her wrist. Megan realized that her head was throbbing violently. She let out a groan.

“I think she’s coming ’round,” said another voice, feminine, this time. A breeze touched her face, cooling her.

The masculine voice once again said her name, adding, “Wake up.”

“What happened to her?”

“Why is she here?”

Those were two more women’s voices.

And now a man said, “You know, if any of the women of my family were proper ladies, you would have smelling salts about you.”

Megan wondered how many people were here. And what were they doing around her bed?

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Theo was beside her on one knee, holding her hand in one of his, his other hand around her wrist, and he was looking down at her, frowning.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed, adding unnecessarily, “She’s awake.”

Megan blinked and looked cautiously around. She was not lying in her bed at all, but on the hard floor in some hallway. The duchess and Kyria were standing behind Theo, and most of the other Morelands were grouped around her, as well, all staring down at her with worried frowns. Anna was bent over her beside Theo, wielding her fan so that the air cooled Megan’s face. The odd woman in the red wig to whom Theo had been talking earlier was standing at her feet, leaning on a cane and peering down suspiciously at Megan.

“What the devil is she doing up here?” the old lady said querulously. “Queer start, I must say.”

“I don’t know, Aunt Hermione,” Theo replied shortly. “I think perhaps she fainted.”

“But what is she doing up here?” the old woman persisted. “There is no one else about.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Megan said, not sure exactly why she felt the need to apologize. Something about the old woman seemed to call for it.

“Lady Rochester,” Rafe said in his molasses-tinged voice, sliding a hand around the old woman’s arm. “It must have been very tiring for you to have climbed these stairs.”

“Yes, you really should not have,” the duchess put in flatly.

“Let me escort you back downstairs and get you a seat. And maybe a nice glass of punch?” Rafe went on smoothly.

“Hmph. Don’t think you can work your way around me, young man,” the old lady groused, but she let him turn her gently around. “I would take a cup of punch. Can’t imagine what the world’s coming to, young women running about fainting all over the place.”

Her voice went on, listing complaints, punctuated by the thud of her cane on the floor, as she and Rafe went down the hall.

“Sorry you had to meet Lady Rochester this way,” Theo said, smiling down at Megan. “Can you sit up?”

“Yes, of course.”

She started to protest as his hand slid under her back to help her, but as she sat up, her head swam. She closed her eyes, sucking in her breath, and it took all her concentration to keep her suddenly pitching stomach from tossing up all its contents.

Theo stopped, his arm around her back, bracing her. “Are you all right?”

Her stomach settled enough for her to breathe, “I—I feel a little ill.”

“Of course you do,” Anna said soothingly, squatting down beside her and wafting the fan.

The breeze it created was cooling, reviving, and after a moment, Megan felt well enough to open her eyes again. “What happened?”

“We were rather hoping you could tell us that,” the duchess told her.