Mrs. O’Connor blinked. “Punishment? Ye are lookin’ at it wrong. ’Tis nae the Fates who have a hand in this. ’Tis the Fae.”
Annie blinked too. “The Fae?”
“Aye. Faeries.Sidhe. They do enjoy a bit of meddling, just like our Irish leprechauns.”
Annie opened her mouth, then closed it. Mrs. O’Connor had always seemed quite lucid, but perhaps at her age she was a trifle touched in the head. Right now, the elderly lady was tipping her head to one side like a bird and fixing a bright-eyed look on Annie.
“Ye don’t believe, do ye, dearie?”
“Ah…” Annie swallowed, not sure how to respond. If Mrs. O’Connor was having a delusionary bout of some sort, would it be better to play along or to correct it? She didn’t have experience with flights of fancy due to aging—or, for that matter, flights of fancy, period—but Annie had never been one to lead someone on. She shook her head. “I doona think such creatures exist.”
Mrs. O’Connor was quiet for so long that Annie was afraid she’d insulted her. She was about to apologize when the woman smiled.
“Perhaps ye will one day.”
“Perhaps.” Annie wanted to say she doubted it, but she didn’t want to sound argumentative with the kindly, elderly lady.
“Good.” Mrs. O’Connor’s eyes brightened again. “’Tis all that can be asked.”
That remark left Annie feeling disconcerted, but before she could comment, one of the nuns came to escort Mrs. O’Connor to prayers. She turned in the doorway before she followed the sister out and looked back at Annie.
“Humor an old lady and don’t push that young man too far away, aye?”
“Aye,” Annie replied, more to appease Mrs. O’Connor than anything. She suspected she wouldn’t have any more luck pushing Niall away figuratively than she would if she actually tried the physical act of moving him. However, she might be able to elude him…especially if she left the home early. The other lady she normally visited had her daughter here today, so there wasno need to see her, which meant that Annie had nearly an hour free.
The club had scheduled a meeting at the tearoom near the toll booth. She hadn’tpromisedNiall she would wait for him after all. She had merely acquiesced.
So why wait? Nothing bad was going to happen in broad daylight.
Chapter Two
“Annie—Miss Ferguson—left?” Niall started to curse, then remembered he was standing in the presence of one of the Sisters of Mercy. She was already frowning at his tone of voice. He managed to assume a more agreeable inflection. “Where did she go? When did she leave?”
The sister tucked her hands into the sleeves of her habit and studied him, as though she were deciding whether to answer. It was all Niall could do not to tell her to hurry the reply, but he doubted it would do much good. He tried giving her his most winning smile…the one that diffused even the most suspicious of mamas. The nun simply tightened her lips into a flat line. He sighed inwardly.
“Annie—Miss Ferguson—might be in danger.”
The sister looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
Again, he curbed his impatience, although he had the feeling he was wasting valuable time. Why couldn’t the lass have waited like he asked her to?If ye wish,she’d said. He should have known better than to believe Annie was going to listen to him. Now she was God-knew-where, without the benefit of an escort. “Miss Ferguson is known to be part of a ladies’ club that is not well-liked by certain groups of men.”
“You mean the Liberty and Progress Club?”
Naill didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Ye ken of it?”
The nun nodded primly. “Just because we are cloistered does not mean you should think us ignorant of what takes place outside these walls.”
“I dinnae mean ye were ignorant of such things.” He gave her another smile. “Ye seem to be quite intelligent.”
One eyebrow went up, but she said nothing. Niall wondered if somehow his notorious ability to charm females had been banished once he entered the convent. Strictly speaking, hewasn’tinthe convent but in the home associated with it. Perhaps when nuns took their vows, they became immune to any type of commendation. In any event, the sister did not appear to be moved one bit. Rather like Annie. Although comparing Annie to a nun was rather like comparing lemonade to good Scots whisky. He tried a different approach.
“I assume ye are also aware that the ladies’ march with signs protesting the unions nae allowing them to work?”
“Annie has mentioned it.”
“Then ye have probably deduced the men in those unions are very angry about it.”
The sister frowned slightly. “Why should they be angry?”
