Perry saw him first. The Englishman turned, his face as bland and cool as ever.
The tableau Liam had walked into didn’t change for several seconds. Caroline and Mac stood side by side before a cheval mirror, the former in the process of fussing with some fastening on Mac’s dress.
Mac’s dress. Good lord. She was wearing a dress with long, sweeping skirts and an ill-fitting basque bodice. Her expression was one of discomfort and quickly hidden unease.
And Caroline—she turned her head and froze, just long enough for him to see a fleeting uncertainty in her gaze.
“Liam!” she cried, sweeping toward him. “I am so glad you are here. You will never guess what has happened!”
“No?” he said grimly.
If she noticed his mood she chose to ignore it. “Perry came first thing this morning with the most remarkable story. Did you know about his little cousin?” She gestured toward Mac and rushed on without waiting for an answer. “To think this poor girl has been denied the benefits of society for so long! When I heard about her, I knew I had to help. She only arrived an hour ago, but I’ve already found one of my old dresses that almost fits…”
Liam heard no more than one word in ten of her chatter. He was staring at Mac, struggling to decide whether he was more amazed at her vaguely ridiculous appearance or enraged at her unexpected and very unwelcome presence.
Perry was behind it, of course. But Mac, whom Liam had absolved of any treachery in the jungle, had come with him. Willingly, to all appearances, however Perry had convinced her. Liam damned himself for a thrice-cursed fool.
“I was not told about Perry’s… cousin,” he said, interrupting Caroline’s monologue.
She took his arm. “I am certain you will pity her as I do. Her father was a missionary in South America—he recently passed away, and she was left with no resources except Perry himself. She came all the way to San Francisco on her own.” Caroline’s words were shaded with unmistakable excitement and something dangerously like admiration.
“She did, did she,” he said.
“Yes. She only just arrived yesterday. Is it not an amazing coincidence that she came to San Francisco the same day you did?” Caroline prattled, tugging Liam’s arm to regain his attention. “Perhaps you were even on the same ship.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting the young lady,” he said with a tight smile.
“Then you must allow me to introduce you!”
The damage was done. He couldn’t remove either Mac or Perry without causing a scene, and Caroline was very deeply caught. “By all means,” he said.
Caroline drew him farther into the room. “Miss MacKenzie, I have the great pleasure of introducing you to my… old friend, Mr. O’Shea.”
Mac looked at him, her dark eyes bold as ever. She dropped an awkward curtsey and offered her hand.
“Mr. O’Shea. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
He took her hand. It was strong for a woman’s, but he could have crushed it with little effort. He exerted just enough pressure to make a point. “The honor is all mine,” he said. “Perry’s cousin, I’m told? I didn’t hear him mention you before.”
“I’m afraid I… come from a rather obscure branch of the family,” she said. “I don’t expect Mr. Sinclair and I would ever have met, except”—her mouth gave a very convincing tremble—”except that Papa died.”
“You have my very great sympathy, Miss MacKenzie,” he said. “I hear you came all the way from South America alone. It must have been a very difficult journey. Not one for a woman.”
“But you must know all about such difficulties, Mr. O’Shea,” she said. “Miss Gresham—Caroline—has already told me what great adventurers you and my cousin are. I’m sure you’ve braved far greater perils than my poor papa and I.”
“Some adventures are riskier than others,” he said. “It takes excellent judgment to recognize when one has gone too far.”
“Oh? I’m sure you would know all about that, Mr. O’Shea.” She simpered with a flutter of dark lashes.
“What I don’t know, I learn quickly,” he said.