“Why?” she asked, her dry tone earning a scowl from him.
“Because I’ve known him for over a decade. You, on the other hand, know him only through my acquaintance, so forgive me if I question my very…perceptive sister”—he looked around, taking into account the servants present—“about her convictions.”
Joan twisted her lips.
Morgan’s stare pierced her. “Are you finished?” He gestured to her still-full plate.
“No. I’ve been arguing with you and haven’t had much opportunity to do anything else,” Joan replied, then took an exaggeratedly slow bite of bacon and chewed methodically. It was amusing to watch Morgan’s ears turn red with irritation.
“Bring it with you and follow me.” He gave a pointed look to the footman beside the sideboard and stood, indicating for her to rise as well.
She sent him a scowl. “You’re awfully pushy today.”
“I’m sure I could come up with some accurate adjectives for your behavior as well, seeing as my ‘pushy’ attitude is a reaction to you.” He resettled her chair under the table for her, then led her down the hall.
Joan lifted the last rasher of bacon to her mouth and chewed as she followed Morgan to his study. He closed the door behind them and took a seat. Drat, she was in for a lecture and it wasn’t even half eleven in the morning.
“I forgot my tea.” Joan rose again.
“You don’t need it,” Morgan replied and sat across from her in the smallish seating area near the fire. “Joan, we’ve discussed this. In social settings, you mustn’t let on that you—”
“I’m mindful. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why must you be so sensitive—”
“Because I know how people work, think, and react.” Lines formed along his forehead. “And I don’t want you to be on the receiving end of their speculation or ire,” he finished.
When he put it in such a protective way, Joan struggled to find her righteous anger against him.Drat the man.
She sighed softly. “It was your friend, someone whom I know you trust. I didn’t say or do anything that would give way to speculation, and even if I did, don’t you have faith in your friend not to use it against you…or me?”
Morgan studied her, then looked down to his hands, folding them and then unfolding them. “So you said nothing to him?”
Joan glanced to the side.
“Damn it. What did you say?” Morgan asked, his sharp words echoing in the room, even with the quiet way he had spoken them.
“I tried not to.”
“Oh, it’s bad, isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck, then stood from his seat and began pacing.
“No. Stop fussing. You’re worse than a mother hen.”
He gave her quite a sarcastic expression as a response, but halted his pacing.
“I was curious,” she said, defending herself.
“Which killed the cat, you know.” Morgan began pacing once more.
“Meow,” she replied smartly and continued, “I hedged a bit.”
“Which only whetted his curiosity.” He snorted.
“Probably.”
“And you said?”
“Well, I could see this sort of aura.” She hedged.
“I regret giving you books on Greek etymology,” Morgan replied and set his head in his hands as he sighed. “You’re not answering the question, and I know damn well you saw no aura. You’re far too fond of your facts and science.”