Mistletoe Mischief

Chapter 13

Megan might have met with a terrible accident, had not Greville pulled her back in time. 'Damn it, woman, look where you're going!' he cried.

She was too shaken to reply. She heard the growled curses of the two chairmen, and caught a glimpse of the fly-by-night's middle-aged male passenger's startled face; then it had gone.

Greville drew her away from the curb. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes. Thank you.'

'Perhaps in future you will know your place.'

She wrenched her arm away from him. 'And what exactly is my place, Sir Greville? Somewhere below kitchen scullion and above street urchin? Or would even that be too grand?'

'Miss Mortimer-'

'Maybe you would prefer to see me press-ganged? A few winters on the Atlantic would no doubt do me good!'

'Miss Mortimer! When I spoke of your place, I meant on my arm, away from the curb!'

She gazed at him in dismay. 'Oh.'

'Oh, indeed. Now then, can we please proceed back to Radcliffe House, and bring this disagreeable expedition to an end as quickly as possible?'

She took his arm without another word, and they walked on in a silence during which they heard the band still playing Christmas carols in the garden in front of the Marine Pavilion. But then they both saw Oliver bowing over Chloe's hand as she stood with her father on the verandah of the library.

With Rupert's interests very much in mind, Greville decided that Radcliffe House would have to be temporarily postponed, and his own desire for anonymity abandoned. 'Miss Mortimer, I, er, have decided to call in at Donaldson's before going on to the house. I trust that will not inconvenience you at all?'

Megan had observed the expressions crossing his face as he witnessed the scene on the verandah, and knew he had changed his mind out of consideration for Rupert. For this she could almost have favorably revised her opinion of Sir Greville Seton, indeed she probably would have had it not been that she was filled with trepidation now that another meeting with her only kinsman was almost certainly imminent.

She was in a cleft stick. In spite of Oliver's intimacy with the Holcrofts, should she have revealed to Evangeline that he was her despicable cousin? It was too late now for she had held her tongue, and if Oliver mentioned their relationship, her silence on the subject was going to convince Greville still more that she had an ulterior motive for everything she did-probably even for drawing breath! She could explain to Evangeline that she had kept silent because of the Holcrofts, but Greville wouldn't believe that!

'Miss Mortimer?' Greville prompted curiously, still awaiting her response.

'Of course it will not be an inconvenience, sir,' she answered, and they continued toward the corner.

The circulating library had been run by Mr. Donaldson only since June, having previously been in the hands of a Mr. Gregory. It was open all the year around for the convenience of persons of rank and fashion, and was almost always crowded and busy. Within its walls one could not only borrow the latest novels, plays, or poems, but also examine portfolios of watercolors and caricatures. Materials for painting and sketching could be acquired, new pieces of music tried out, tickets for balls and lotteries purchased, and cardplaying indulged in; but above all, people went there to append their names to the all-important register.

Summer and winter, the verandah was the favorite gathering place, because it was visible from both inside and outside the library, and if the Prince of Wales should be at the Marine Pavilion, he could look across and see who was in town. Today he would have observed his Carlton House dinner guest, Miss Chloe Holcroft, blushing and smiling as another of his Carlton House dinner guests, Mr. Oliver March, paid court to her with every display of gallantry.

Megan studied Oliver as she and Greville drew closer. To see him now one might take him for a veritable Robin Hood, not the ruthless mixture of Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham he really was. Sir Jocelyn stood at his daughter's side in a frogged olive-green greatcoat and a black beaver hat with the brim turned down against the cold. There was a rather impenetrable expression on his face, and if Megan had to hazard a guess, she would have said he was none too happy to encounter Oliver March. Maybe the admiral was of Evangeline's persuasion, and would much have preferred Rupert for a future son-in-law.

Chloe, on the other hand, was obviously pleased to see Oliver again; at least, if she wasn't, she was hiding the fact very well. She still wore the cornflower-blue clothes of the morning, and her smile was radiant. Suddenly she looked up and saw Greville. 'Greville! How good it is to see you again!' Her eyes went to Megan. 'And you too, of course, Miss er…?'

'Mortimer,' Megan supplied, knowing there was no longer any point in hiding it. She felt Oliver's hard gaze upon her, but did not look at him.

'Miss Mortimer.' As Chloe smiled she wasn't entirely able to eliminate the speculation in her eyes. She was wondering why Sir Greville Seton was out walking with his aunt's new companion. Was there something between them? Realizing what was going through the other's mind, Megan hastily removed her hand from Greville's arm, and by so doing unwittingly caused Chloe to wonder even more.

Greville stepped on to the verandah to kiss Chloe on the cheek. 'It's good to see you again too, Chloe,' he said, and clasped her hands warmly to look at her. 'You are blooming, as always.'

'Why, thank you, sir.' She bobbed a mock curtsy.

The admiral leaned forward with an outstretched hand. 'Greville, m'boy, I thought you were shunning us all this Christmas.'

'A last-minute change of plan,' Greville replied as they shook hands, then he turned to Megan. 'Miss Mortimer, allow me to present Admiral Sir Jocelyn Holcroft, Miss Holcroft's father.'

The admiral raised Megan's hand to his lips. 'So you are the strange young lady my daughter espied at the window last night, eh?'

'Yes, Sir Jocelyn.'

'I'm relieved to note that you do not possess two heads.'

'Sir?'

He smiled again. 'Oh, nothing, my dear, just an old man's notion of humor.' He looked more closely at her with his one good eye. 'I trust you will forgive me, for although I realize we have met before, I'm afraid I cannot remember where or when.'

'But we haven't met before, Sir Jocelyn' she replied.

'We haven't? Are you sure?'

'Absolutely certain, sir.'

'But you seem so familiar. Upon my soul, I truly thought we must have been introduced at some time. Ah, well, clearly my memory is even worse than I feared.'

Oliver had very definitely been left in the wings by all these greetings, but now he reached for Megan's hand and made a pretense of bending over it. 'How fortunate to encounter you again so soon, Miss Mortimer,' he murmured, using the display of civility to squeeze her fingers until they hurt.

By doing that, and by deliberately addressing her as Miss Mortimer instead of Cousin Megan, she knew she was being warned to hold her tongue about being his relative. Such an arrangement suited her admirably. 'Mr. March,' she replied.

Oliver held her gaze with his pale, cold eyes, and she was the one who lowered her glance. It was the reaction of someone who did not wish to cause trouble, and it satisfied him that-for the time being at least-he had successfully intimidated her. His eyes flickered away to Greville, whom he greeted with every appearance of suspicious dislike. 'Seton,' he said briefly.

'March,' was the equally abrupt reply.

Antagonism crackled between them, and once again Megan was reluctantly moved to credit Greville with some approval; anyone who abhorred Oliver March could not be entirely beyond redemption. She felt Sir Jocelyn still looking at her with that 'I'm-sure-I-know-you-from-somewhere' light in his eyes. She must look like someone else, she thought.

Chloe was addressing her again. 'Have you been a companion for long, Miss Mortimer?'