Page 51 of An Unexpected Pleasure

“I’m sorry, miss,” the maid said sympathetically. “Is it the headache? Cook brews up a good tincture. Take it and go to sleep, and you’ll feel right as rain tomorrow.”

“That would be very nice,” Megan responded. If she was lucky, she would not have to drink it in front of the girl. She sat up slowly. “Would you take a note down to the duchess for me, saying I won’t be there?”

“Of course, miss. Would you like for me to bring you a tray of food?”

“That would be very sweet of you,” Megan told her. “I’m not sure how much I can eat, but perhaps later…”

She penned a brief note excusing herself from dinner and gave it to Millie to carry to the duchess. Then she lay back down to wait for the sounds of the rest of the family going downstairs.

Millie brought her back a tray of cold cuts, bread and fruit, and laid it on the dresser for Megan to eat later. She also left a small brown bottle with instructions for mixing it with water and drinking it.

Megan assured her she would, and after the girl left, she poured a bit of the brown noxious-looking mixture in a glass, then tossed the contents out the window. She nibbled at the food as she listened to the footsteps outside her room.

Finally the corridor fell silent. Going to her door, Megan leaned her ear against it, listening, then eased open the door and peered out. The hallway was empty. After a glance in either direction, she tiptoed out of the room and moved quietly down the hall and around the corner. The door to Theo’s room stood ajar, and she carefully peeked inside.

There was no one, so with another quick glance around at the empty corridor, Megan stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind her. If by chance some servant or other family member did come down the hallway, it would not do for them to see her moving about inside the room.

It was a pleasantly large room, befitting, she supposed, the heir to the family title. An expanse of windows across one wall looked out over the back garden. Dark green velvet drapes decorated the windows, drawn back with ties to let in the last faint glow of daylight.

A large bed dominated the room. Four dark walnut posts supported a high tester the same dark green velvet of the draperies, and the wide, thick mattress was covered with a heavy gold-and-green-patterned brocade bedspread. The rest of the furniture was also black walnut, massive, but with clean, elegantly simple lines. A leather chair and hassock stood next to a standing lamp, a small table beside them, piled high with books. It was a comfortable-looking place, with jumbled bookshelves and odd masculine bits and pieces of things stacked in corners and on shelves—an old cricket bat, a fishing rod propped in one corner, a flat dish in which lay a hodgepodge of coins and keys and an old, dented metal pocket watch.

Megan’s eyes went first to the bed. It was, after all, impossible to miss. She thought of Theo lying in it at night, and an unexpected heat curled through her abdomen. Telling herself not to be foolish, she walked forward into the room. She made a quick circuit of the chamber, noting the odd foreign-looking piece here and there. A small jade statue sat on his dresser, and an oddly twisted walking stick leaned against the walnut wardrobe. A straw mask of a demonic creature hung on the wall, along with a graceful watercolor of a white heron picking its way through bamboo plants.

She saw nothing that reminded her of any of the objects they had seen at the Cavendish the day before, nor did she spot any pendant. But, then, she had not really expected Theo to have left it sitting out in plain sight.

She would have to look inside the drawers and chests and compartments, something that went against her grain. Steeling herself to snoop, she turned first to the small desk.

It did not take long to check through all the drawers, finding little except pen nibs, papers, pencil stubs and the like. She turned to go to the large chest that lay at the foot of the bed. It was intriguingly carved with the figures of exotic animals, and it looked like the sort of place where one could stash all sorts of items.

Megan went down on one knee before the chest and placed her hands on its rim, starting to lift it. Suddenly, behind her, there was a loud metallic groan, as of hinges moving. Megan jumped, the lid of the chest slipping from her hand and crashing back down, and whirled around.

Theo Moreland was standing in the doorway of his room, looking at her.

CHAPTER 11

Megan jumped to her feet. She could feel the blood flooding her face in embarrassment, and she clasped her hands together in front of her, unable to speak.

“Miss Henderson, what a surprise,” Theo said calmly. “I had been told you were sick, but when I came up to see how you were feeling, I found your room empty. And this door, which I had left open, was closed.”

He paused. Megan cast about wildly for something she could say to explain herself, but her mind was a blank. What could possibly excuse her being in his room, snooping into his things?

When she said nothing, he smiled faintly. “Cat got your tongue?”

Theo strolled into the room, closing the door behind him. “This is indeed an unusual moment. I can only assume that, feeling ill, you must have been searching for a headache powder. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I fear that I have no such remedies. I rarely get headaches.”

“Theo—I mean, Mr. Mor—Lord Raine—” Megan stumbled over the words.

His smile broadened into a grin. “You are quite alluring when you’re flustered, Miss Henderson—or shall I call you Megan? I think we could dispense with the formalities, don’t you, seeing as how we are standing in my bedchamber?”

“I—I can explain….”

“Can you?” His eyes danced. “I would truly enjoying hearing it.”

Megan’s eyes flashed. “All right. I cannot explain it. You know I cannot.”

“Well, a mystery is better than a lie,” Theo mused.

He strolled over and stood looking down at her. He was too close, but Megan stubbornly refused to back away from him. It would seem too much like cowardice. Instead, she tilted her head back and looked up at him, defiance in every line of her face and posture.