She let out a lilting laugh. Megan wondered if it sounded as practiced to Theo as it did to her.
“You naughty man,” Lady Helena said playfully, reaching out to rap Theo’s arm lightly. Her eyes glowed as she gazed up at him. “You are such a tease. You must know how much I enjoy your mother’s company. And your sisters are quite delightful.”
“Mmm, Mrs. McIntyre speaks of you often, as well,” Megan put in, meeting Lady Scarle’s sharp glance with wide-eyed innocence.
Beside her, Theo pressed his lips together tightly and turned to look out across the room. Lady Scarle narrowed her eyes at Megan sharply.
“Miss…Henderson, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you would be so good as to allow Lord Raine and me to conduct a private conversation,” Lady Helena went on, her voice sharp as cut glass.
Megan’s brows sailed upward in astonishment at the other woman’s arrogance. She clenched her fists unconsciously, anger spurting up in her.
Something of what she felt must have shone in her face, for Theo reached over and wrapped a hand around Megan’s arm, holding her in place. Looking at Lady Scarle, he said, “Excuse me, my lady. I was unaware that you and I had anything we needed to discuss in private.”
Lady Helena’s eyes widened at his dismissive words. Bright spots of color stained her cheeks, and she shot Megan a glance of venomous dislike. “Indeed, Lord Raine. Perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Perhaps so. Now, if you will excuse us…”
Still gripping Megan’s arm, he steered her away from Lady Scarle and out the door. “Temper, temper,” he murmured as they walked.
“You needn’t hold on to me,” Megan told him sharply. “I am not going to hit her…however much I would like to.”
“I wasn’t sure. You looked as if your Irish was up.”
“My what?” Megan whipped her head around to look at him. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Why had he used that term? Did he know somehow that her name was false—that her real one was Irish?
He returned her gaze blandly. “Isn’t that the right term? Does it not mean one is angry?”
“I—yes, I guess it does. But I wasn’t that angry—only irritated.”
“Lady Scarle is an irritating woman,” Theo agreed. “However, you seem to have inspired her to new heights.”
“I wasn’t properly servile,” Megan said. “I think she believed I should curtsy and fade away to let her pursue you.”
“Thank God you did not,” Theo replied feelingly.
Megan had to laugh. “Needed protection, did you?”
He gave an elaborate shudder and looked at her with laughing eyes. “Desperately. Now that Lord Scarle is dead, she has her eye on a higher title.”
Megan suspected that the title was not all Lady Scarle found appealing in Theo. Looking at him, she thought that almost any woman would be attracted to him, titled or not.
“She is a beautiful woman,” Megan pointed out.
“She has a number of admirers,” Theo agreed. “I, however, am not one of them.” He looked down at her. “I prefer a woman of a different sort.”
“Indeed?” Megan knew that the smile she turned up to him was flirtatious, and that it was wrong of her smile at him that way, but somehow she could not seem to stop herself.
“Yes.” His face sobered as he stopped and turned to face her. “If we were not in this place, I would show you what sort of woman appeals to me.”
Megan’s breath came faster in her throat. “Then it is just as well that we are here, is it not?”
“I find it quite the opposite,” he responded, his gaze drifting down her face to her mouth. “Megan…”
Heat flickered deep within her. Megan clasped her hands behind her as though to make certain that they did not move of their own volition to touch him.
“My lord, as you said, this is a public place.” She turned her head away; it was too difficult to think when she was looking at him.
“Yes, dammit, I know,” he ground out. His face knotted in frustration. “I need to talk to you. I need to know—”
“Theo, darling, there you are,” a woman’s voice sounded, and they turned to see the Duchess of Broughton walking toward them. “Hello, Miss Henderson. Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yes, ma’am, very much.”
“Good, good.” The duchess smiled, then turned to her son. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Lady Rochester is here and asking about you.”
Theo let out a groan. “Mother, no…”
“She insists upon seeing you. Says you haven’t paid her a visit since you came to town this summer.”
“Indeed I haven’t,” Theo retorted with heartfelt emotion. “All she ever talks to me about is settling down and doing my duty.”
“Yes, dear, I know, it’s terribly tiresome,” the duchess sympathized, patting his arm. “But she was threatening to come stay with us for a few days just so she can see you.”
“So I am to be the sacrificial lamb?” Theo asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes, I am afraid so,” the duchess agreed serenely. “Your father nearly swallowed his tongue when Lady Rochester suggested visiting us. He cannot abide his aunt, and one can scarcely blame him.” She turned to Megan with a smile. “Now, my dear, I have been absolutely deluged with requests to be introduced to you. I fobbed most of them off, of course, but there are a few young men who aren’t entirely silly, so I thought I would introduce you to them. Unless, of course, you would prefer not to dance—I am sure they will all ask you.”
“Thank you. That is very kind of you.” Megan ignored the ill-natured grunt Theo let out behind her and smiled at the duchess, letting her lead her back toward the ballroom.
The duchess introduced her here and there, and before many minutes had passed, Megan found her dance card filling up. She danced with several young men, all the while keeping her eye out for Mr. Barchester and for Mr. Coffey.
She managed to catch sight of Julian Coffey two or three times, but he was always talking to someone, and she had little time to spare before another man came to lead her out onto the dance floor. It was going to be harder to get a chance to talk with the director of the museum than she had thought. She decided to tell anyone else who asked her that her dance card had been filled, so that she would have some time alone to interview Coffey.
As luck would have it, she was just walking off the floor after a lively waltz with a young man who danced expertly but had trouble saying anything but boring pleasantries when she came face-to-face with Mr. Barchester and her sister. Megan drew in her breath sharply, and her companion glanced at her with vague curiosity.
“Miss Henderson,” Deirdre exclaimed. “How very nice to see you again. You know Mr. Barchester, I believe.”
“Yes, of course.”
The two men seemed to be acquaintances and they shook hands politely. Megan wrapped her hand around her sister’s arm, saying, “Will you walk with me? It has been an age since I have talked to you.”
Megan bade her dancing partner a polite goodbye, and whisked her sister through the crowd and into the hallway.