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.”
“It’s soft you sound about these people. I figure the next thing you’ll be telling me is Theo Moreland is innocent.”
“No,” Megan said, with an unconscious sigh. “I don’t think he is innocent. But I have not been able to prove it yet. I haven’t found a trace of a pendant or anything else that he might have taken from Dennis. I have tried to ask him a few questions about the trip, but he’s very close-mouthed about it.”
She related their trip to the museum and the way he had acted there, the few things he had said about his trip up the Amazon.
“Where have you looked in the house?” her father asked.
“Everywhere,” Megan replied dispiritedly. “Well, everywhere I could get in. There is a locked room by the butler’s pantry where they keep the silver, I think, and there is a safe in the duke’s study, but I don’t know how to break into either of those. I did check the duke’s collection room, which seemed the likeliest place to me, but everything there is Greek or Roman.”
“What about his bedroom?” Deirdre asked.
Megan looked at her sister, hoping that no blush would creep into her cheeks to betray even a hint of what had happened in Theo’s bedroom. “Yes, I looked there, but I found nothing. I—I didn’t have much time. It’s difficult to find a chance to go in there without getting caught. But I will go back some night when he is out of the house. I just wish we knew more about what I’m looking for.” She paused, then asked, “Have you had any more dreams?”
Deirdre nodded. “Yes, Dennis has come to me twice more. But he said nothing more than what he’s already told me.”
“Couldn’t you ask him a question?” Megan asked. “What this thing is we’re looking for, maybe?”
Her sister gave her a disparaging look. “Megan, it’s not like that. I’m not even conscious. Mostly I just feel these emotions coming from him—grief and loss and a need for our help. Believe me, I wish it was all clearer.”
“I wish I could talk to Mr. Barchester again,” Megan mused.
“Why, we can ask him,” Frank said. “Next time he comes over. What is it you want to know?”
Megan looked at her father in surprise. “Mr. Barchester has been here?”
“Yes. He has come to call three times now.” Frank smiled, casting a glance over at his other daughter. “I’m thinking ’tis Deirdre he’s coming to see, not me.”
Megan’s gaze went to Deirdre. “The man’s courting you?”
Deirdre blushed. “No, of course not. Da…don’t exaggerate.”
“What? Exaggerating, is it? Why else would he keep popping in?” Frank Mulcahey’s eyes, so like his daughter’s, twinkled merrily.
“Are you interested in him?” Megan asked Deirdre, happy to be diverted from the subject of Theo and the search for incriminating evidence.
“I scarcely know the man,” Deirdre protested, but the small smile that played about her lips belied her attempt at indifference.
“You are interested in him!” Megan cried and leaned closer to her sister. “All right. Tell me everything.”
Deirdre chuckled. “There is nothing to tell. Really. He’s come over here a few times, and he is very nice and polite. But he’s done nothing to indicate any particular interest in me.”