Her sister, however, seemed not to notice this defect, for she smiled and even, Megan realized, flirted with him a little.
For her part, Megan was barely able to sit still and be polite. She wanted only to go back to the house they had rented and talk over the tantalizing possibility of “treasure” that Mr. Barchester had raised. She could see, glancing at her father, that he was fairly twitching to discuss it, too.
Indeed, they had barely bade Mr. Barchester goodbye and walked a few feet from his front door before Frank burst out, “I knew it! Did I not I tell you? That murderin’ English bastard stole that pendant from Dennis. That’s what Den wants back, I’ll warrant.”
“Now, Da, we don’t know that,” Megan pointed out fairly.
“It’s as plain as the nose on your face, girl,” he retorted. “After Dennis was dead, that titled scoundrel was wearing this thing around his neck and being terribly secretive about it. How else did it suddenly appear? And why else would he have been hiding it?”
“It makes sense,” Megan agreed. “But we don’t know that Moreland took it from Dennis, or that he killed him over it. The truth is, we don’t even know what ‘it’ is!”
“A pendant,” Deirdre offered. “That’s what Mr. Barchester said.”
“Yes, but what sort of thing was hanging from it? A jewel or a golden medallion or what? And what was it hanging from? A golden chain or a simple string? It could even have been a little pouch hung on a bit of twine. His description was very vague.”
“Aye, that’s true. It might not have been a necklace,” Frank mused. “It could have been something small that he just carried close to him like that for safekeeping.”
“But clearly it was something ‘precious,’” Megan went on, emphasizing the word Deirdre had used in describing her brother’s loss.
“And clearly Moreland did not want anyone to know about it.”
“Well, at least it narrows down my search,” Megan said. “I know that it’s something small I’m looking for, probably a necklace of some sort.”
Excitement rose in her, as it always did when she was chasing down a story. But this time, there would be a far greater reward if she tracked down the truth. All the little doubts that had been teasing at the back of her mind—the liking she had felt for the duchess and the twins, and her reluctance at deceiving them, the strange feeling that had gripped her when she first saw Theo Moreland—all vanished now. Such minor things scarcely mattered.
Tomorrow she would start stalking her brother’s killer.
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