An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(73)

It occurred to her that it was perhaps very foolish of her to be riding alone in a carriage with the man. Her stomach tightened. She reminded herself that everyone in Theo’s family knew that she had gone back to Broughton House with him. He could not risk harming her, not with everyone aware that she had been alone with him.

She laced her fingers together tightly and leaned into the corner of the carriage, closing her eyes once again, in a pose of resting. Inside, every part of her was on alert, poised for defense.

The time passed slowly, but eventually the carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of the Moreland mansion. Theo climbed out and turned to help Megan down. She put her fingers in his to step down, and his hand closed possessively around hers.

“Your hand is cold,” he said, and peered down into her face.

“I’m fine.” She knew it was fear that had sent the blood rushing from her extremities, not shock, but she did not want to say so.

“Let’s get you inside, so I can look at your head.”

“I only want to go to bed,” she said, hating the weakness in her voice.

He shook his head. “Not when you have been out cold like that. You need to stay awake.”

He whisked her through the front door and down the hall to a cozy, masculine room paneled in oak and furnished with dark maroon leather chairs. It smelled pleasantly of tobacco, and against one wall was a cherrywood sideboard on which sat glasses and decanters of liquor.

Theo rang for a servant and sent him for the supplies he wanted. Then he turned and went to the sideboard, where he poured golden brown liquid into two short glasses. He took a hearty drink from one glass and handed the other one to Megan.

She looked doubtfully at it.

“Don’t be missish. Drink it down,” he ordered her. “It will warm you up.”

Cautiously, Megan took a sip. She shuddered at the strong taste, but it did warm her throat as it slid down. She took another, larger, sip.

The footman returned with a tray containing a bowl of water, a bowl of ice and a tin of medical supplies. Theo turned up the gas sconces to their brightest and lit a kerosene lamp, which he placed on the small table beside her.

Dismissing the footman, he dipped a rag in water and squeezed it out, then gently parted her hair and dabbed the rag against her wound. Megan sucked in her breath sharply at the pain.

“Sorry.” He continued to clean the wound, touching it as lightly as he could. “Someone cracked you a good one.”

“What?” Megan’s eyes widened, surprised at his blunt statement. “What do you mean?”

“Come, come,” he retorted. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you fainted.”

Finished cleaning the area, he dabbed a bit of ointment on her wound and pressed a small pad to it.

“That is what everyone said.”

“It seemed the most likely explanation. And they didn’t look at the location and severity of that bump on your head. I did. It split the skin and was a little high and to the side—not a likely place for your head to hit the floor when you fell. Looks more like someone knocked you out.”

“Oh.” Megan didn’t know what to say.

Theo wrapped up a few small chunks of ice in a towel and handed it to her. “Here. Hold this against it. It will help the swelling.”

He sat down in a chair across from her. “Who was it, Megan? Who hit you?”

“I don’t know!” she blurted out honestly. “I don’t remember. The last thing I remember is leaving the ballroom.”

Even as she said the words, a wisp of a memory came into her mind—a shadowy corridor lined with walls of stone, lights flickering in wall sconces. She had been in the basement, far from the place where she was found.

“You’re lying,” Theo said dispassionately.

“No. I mean—yes, I just remembered that I was in the basement. But it is the very vaguest memory. I don’t know why I was down there or how I came to be upstairs when you found me.”

She wasn’t about to tell him that she had been following Julian Coffey or that she now remembered seeing Andrew Barchester in front of her in the basement. She had followed him, she thought, but beyond that, her mind was still a blank.

“I think this has gone on long enough. What is going on, Megan? Who are you and why are you masquerading in our home as a tutor?”

Megan opened her eyes wide, saying, “What are you talking about?”

“Come now, Miss—I don’t know what your real name is, but I would hazard a guess it isn’t Henderson. So I shall just call you Megan. I think we have moved beyond protestations of innocence, haven’t we? It is clear you are up to something—stealing the key to the collection room out of my father’s desk, sneaking into my room when you are supposed to be too ill to come down to supper…. I cannot flatter myself that your purpose was to seduce me, since you assumed I would be in the dining room with everyone else.”

Megan set her jaw. She had no explanation she was willing to offer for either of the incidents, so she decided it would be best to say nothing.

“You and I both know that you are no teacher. The twins are aware of it, as well, even though they both pleaded with me not to reveal that fact to our mother. But you know less Greek than they do, and your Latin is a trifle rusty. As for science and mathematics…” He shrugged eloquently.