Mistletoe Mischief

'A ball is not a ball if one is alone.'

'If one is without Belle Bevington, you mean?' she ventured.

Someone knocked at the door. 'Are you all right, Miss Mortimer?' It was Greville.

'Er, yes. Yes, of course,' she replied.

'Pray open the door.'

She did as he asked, and found him standing there holding his mask and fiddling with the lace that spilled from his cuff. He wore white silk breeches, a tight black coat-unbuttoned, the better to show off his brocade waistcoat and lace-trimmed shirt-and there was a very singular emerald pin in his neck cloth. 'I, er, heard your voice and wondered if all was well?' His glance moved past her, but he saw only an empty room.

'I was rehearsing.' It was the first thing that came into her head.

'For what? I wasn't aware that you had a part,' he replied.

She floundered in a little deeper. 'Oh, it wasn't for the play.'

'Then, what for?'

Her mind went blank. 'I-I was learning a poem,' she said then.

'Indeed? Which one?'

'A Shakespeare sonnet.' Oh, how true it was that one lie led to another!

Greville raised an eyebrow. 'I'm all interest, Miss Mortimer. Allow me to hear you.'

She swallowed. 'Hear me?'

'Yes.'

Rollo cleared his throat. 'Repeat after me, mistress. 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' '

'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?''

' 'Thou art more lovely and more temperate.' '

' 'Thou art more lovely and more temperate.' ' She felt very foolish saying such words. No doubt Rollo had once sighed them to Belle Bevington, but Megan Mortimer felt an utter idiot saying them to Sir Greville Seton!

' 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date.' '

' 'Rough winds do shake the darling-' '

Greville continued for her. ' '-do shake the darling buds of May. And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometimes too hot the eve of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometimes declines.' '

Rollo clapped approvingly. 'Oh, finely said, sir, finely said.'

Megan looked shrewdly at Greville. 'Why, sir, I believe you have been less than honest with Lady Evangeline. You recite quite exquisitely, and could clearly be a wonderful Malvolio if you so chose.'

Greville smiled, then looked past her again as he realized the window was open. 'Do you suffer from the heat, Miss Mortimer?'

She colored slightly. 'I-I was just looking outside at the snow when you knocked.'

'While at the same time reciting a Shakespeare sonnet about summer?'

'Er, yes.'

'How very strange.' He turned to go, but then paused. 'You look very well tonight, Miss Mortimer, very well indeed.'

'Why, thank you, Sir Greville.'

'Not at all.' He inclined his head, then walked away.

Megan closed the door, and then the window as well, for the room was now very cold indeed. Then she spoke to Rollo. 'Thank you for coming to my aid, Master Witherspoon.'

There was no reply, and she realized that the specter had gone.

Chapter 23

Much to Evangeline's open delight, it was beginning to snow quite heavily as the Radcliffe House party set off in the town carriage, and by the time the ball got under way, a thin carpet of white had already begun to settle over the town. As far as Evangeline was concerned, the royal sleigh would be hers the following day.

The Christmas bal masque at the Old Ship was always an important social occasion, attended by everyone who was anyone in Brighton and the surrounding area. It was always a great crush, with so many carriages thronging Ship Street that it took quite a time to reach the doors of the assembly rooms. On arriving, every lady was presented with a wrist favor of ivy leaves, lace, and dainty gold satin ribbons, and every gentleman with a sprig of holly for his lapel.

Megan had been dreading running the gauntlet of Evangeline's many friends and acquaintances, but to her relief she was just introduced as Miss Mortimer. There was no mention of the awkward fact of her being a companion, and people were left to imagine what connection she might have with Evangeline. She was later to discover that the general consensus was that she was another of Evangeline's numerous nieces come to stay with her for Christmas, a green girl from an inferior branch of the family who was bound to waste the eclat of having Greville at her side. Megan had to admit to a sneaking vanity in having such a handsome, eligible gentleman as her official escort. His narrow black mask hardly concealed his features at all, and he seemed to be recognized by many of the masked, veiled, or dominoed ladies present They were nearly all guilty of much wishful thinking where he was concerned, and so took much catty pleasure in criticizing Megan's simple use of pansies in her hair as verging on the rustic.

Evangeline's party soon met up with the Holcrofts and Oliver, and they all adjourned to the ballroom, where a cotillion was in progress. One of the red velvet sofas around the edge of the crowded floor was providently still free, so they promptly laid claim to it. The three ladies took their seats, and the four gentlemen stood behind. The sofa was flanked on either side with arrangements of ferns, and nearby more ferns concealed a stand on which rested one of the large blocks of ice. It imparted a breath of refreshing coolness to the already overheated air. Fans fluttered everywhere, chandeliers and candles shimmered, and flames licked around Yule logs that had been placed on every coal fire. At the end of the ball there would be carol singing by firelight, and no one would be allowed to depart without a wanning stirrup cup of mulled wine. But to begin with, champagne and fruit cup were the order of the evening.

From the moment of joining up with the Holcroft party, Rupert and Greville had politely ignored Oliver, but he drew their attention as a footman hurried over with a tray of drinks. Perhaps it was the glitter of his pale eyes behind his mask as he took a glass of champagne, or the faint smile on his lips; whatever it was, they both suddenly found themselves remembering what he and Ralph Strickland had done to the waiter at the Union Club. They glanced at each other, and knew they were thinking the same thing.

Evangeline sipped a glass of apple cup, then turned to Megan. 'My dear, you are to do as you wish tonight. No one knows you are my companion, so there is no need to be a shrinking violet. You may dance every single measure if you feel so inclined.'

'That is very kind of you, Lady Evangeline, but don't you wish me to be close by at all times in case you require me?'

'Require you? At a ball? Whatever for? There, a polonaise has been announced, so off with you now. Greville? Step out with Miss Mortimer immediately!'

Megan hardly dared think what he might feel about being ordered to dance with her, but when she ventured to glance at him, he did not seem to display any resentment; indeed, when their eyes met behind their masks, he smiled. To receive a second such smile in one day made things a great deal easier for her, and suddenly she realized she could enjoy the night ahead.

The polonaise commenced, and she moved easily into the steps remembered from her school days. She ignored the jealous glances of other ladies, for with the benefit of a mask, she felt equal to them all. After that she danced every dance; first a polonaise and minuet with Greville, then an allemande with Rupert, a contredanse with Sir Jocelyn, and after that a landler with a plump bishop who refused to accept that she was not the Duchess of Yeovil, a lady apparently known for an eccentric abhorrence of jewelry.

Greville's evening was by no means the disagreeable occasion he had expected, for against all the odds, he realized he was more than just intrigued by Megan, he actually enjoyed being with her. Companion or not, it was no