Nora glanced up from her book and appeared to shrug before turning another page. Maire answered, “Yes, we returned last night.”
“It’s so dreadful about your brother.” Then she seemed to catch herself and added, “Forgive me, Lady Dunmeath. I spoke without thinking. We are all praying for your husband.”
Emma wasn’t so certain, but she didn’t reveal her thoughts. “Lord Dunmeath is improving,” she answered. “I feel confident that he will be feeling better by morning.”
“I do hope you are right,” Moreen answered. Even so, her voice held a touch of insincerity.
Emma turned to Cormac’s sisters and said, “Mrs. MacPherson came for tea. Would you both care to join us?”
Before either could answer, Moreen said, “Oh, I’m certain the girls have their lessons, or their mother will be wanting them to join her for tea.”
Emma was taken aback by the woman’s remark, and she felt the need to correct her. “Actually, Lady Nora and Lady Maire are more than welcome. I’ve not had the chance to get to know them very well.”
“No, thank you, Lady Dunmeath,” Maire answered. “We—we ought to be going.”
“You needn’t be so formal,” Emma said. “You may call me Emma.”
But neither answered. Instead, Nora closed her book loudly and followed her sister from the drawing room. Their reluctance made it all too evident that they, too, were less than fond of Moreen. And although the woman might be nothing more than an envious wife, Emma decided that it might be best to learn what she could about Moreen.
“I suppose it’s just us now,” Emma said. “I’d like to hear all about you and how you met Lorcan.”
Moreen launched into a tale of how she’d been swept away by Lorcan, enchanted by the castle at Dunmeath, and sorely disappointed when she learned that her husband had no desire to live there. Throughout the conversation, Emma smiled and nodded, but her thoughts drifted back to Cormac. Did he know of Moreen’s ambitions? Was Lorcan’s wife greedy enough to plot his death? Her blood grew cold at the thought.
But again, she needed to learn more.
“Have you ever been to England?” Emma asked. “Or have you lived in Ireland all your life?”
“No, I’ve never been to England,” Moreen admitted. “But Lorcan’s grandmother was English, so I believe he visited, years ago.” She paused when the tea arrived and asked, “Would you like to pour out, or should I?”
“I’m happy to let you pour,” Emma answered. She was grateful for the offer since she was fearful of spilling the tea whenever she was forced into the role.
But although Moreen had no connection to England, Emma found it interesting that Lorcan did. She wondered about Cormac’s cousin, for neither she nor Cormac had seen him since they’d arrived.
After she poured the tea, Moreen sighed. “Oh, this is good. Much better than the herbal teas Nuala tries to make. Sometimes it seems as if she’s brewing blades of grass.”
Emma hadn’t minded it, but she said nothing and sipped at her own tea. “Why have I not met your husband yet? Has he been very busy?”
Moreen set her cup down. “No. It’s only that Lorcan is a very superstitious man. When he heard that Cormac had grown ill again, he stayed far away. If you ask me, it’s very heartless. He said it’s because he wants to protect me from the curse, but I think he ought to be more supportive of his cousin.”
Or it might be that he stayed away to avoid being blamed, Emma thought.
Moreen brought her hands to her waist. “We’re expecting a child of our own in the spring. Lorcan’s hoping for a boy.”
“Congratulations.” Emma tried to smile for her, although she couldn’t tell whether or not Moreen was pregnant. Even so, the woman’s news brought a pang of remorse at the reminder that she’d been unable to conceive a child right away. Although she and Cormac had only been married a few weeks, it felt as if time were moving faster. Perhaps one day she and Cormac would have a baby of their own, but part of her worried it wouldn’t happen.
She heard footsteps approaching from behind, and Moreen called out, “Lord Dunmeath! Oh, you must join us. I’m simply delighted to see that you’re feeling better.”
Emma worried that Cormac was pushing his strength too soon. But when he came to sit beside her on the settee, she felt her own surge of gratitude that he was here. His shoulders brushed against hers, and he accepted a cup of tea from Moreen.
“Thank you, Moreen.” He stirred the tea and asked, “How have you and Lorcan been these days?”
“Oh, well enough. I was just telling your wife of our happy news. Lorcan is so worried about the baby, but I simply had to come and meet Lady Dunmeath. It’s glad I am to see your health has improved,” she gushed.
Emma reached out to Cormac’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. He spoke with Moreen about Dunmeath and news of the local folk, but amid their conversation about people she didn’t know, Emma let herself daydream, wondering what she could do to help him.Wasthere something else causing the illness? It seemed as if every time Cormac was at home—both here and in London—he grew ill. When he’d gone on holiday with her by the seaside, he’d been quite well for days.
The thought took root, making her consider it. What if she tried it again, taking Cormac away from Dunmeath Castle and spending a week away from everyone? If his strength and health improved, then they would know for certain.
She smiled to herself and decided to start making her plans today.
