Mistletoe Mischief

usual cozy place.'

Fosdyke nodded at Edward, who gave Megan another dark glance before he went swiftly up the staircase. Megan felt very awkward. 'Oh, Lady Evangeline, I do not wish to be the cause of Sir Greville's eviction…' she began.

'Nonsense, chit. It will do him good. He and Rupert are most presumptuous, first declining my invitation, and then taking possession of my house behind my back. I intend to have stern words with them. No doubt Greville thinks to avoid my play this year, but his timely presence will enable rehearsals of Twelfth Night to get under way a little sooner than expected. That will teach him.'

Megan fell silent. One thing was certain, Sir Greville would regard her as the presumptuous one, not himself. Edward and the butler clearly already did!

Suddenly Evangeline began to feel familiarly hot and uncomfortable, and she stepped hastily away from the fire. She longed to rush out on to the Steine for some cold air, but to her relief the disagreeable flush passed after a few moments, which was more than could be said for a few exceedingly disagreeable occasions during the journey from Wells. Recovering, she waved Megan toward the drawing room, which lay on the Steine side of the house. 'Wait in there until your room is ready, Miss Mortimer. Fosdyke, see that a dish of tea is brought to my apartment tout de suite.'' With that she gathered her skirts and bustled toward the staircase.

'My lady.' The butler bowed solemnly after his departing mistress, then took himself off to the kitchens.

Megan went into the gray-and-gold drawing room, where lighted candles in sconces illuminated exquisite furniture. Theatrical prints adorned walls hung with Chinese silk, and a portrait of the famous actress Mrs. Siddons as Cleopatra had pride of place on the chimney breast. A longcase clock ticked slowly in a silence that was broken only by Evangeline's voice in the distance, issuing instructions to Annie.

Megan flung back her hood and went to the deeply bowed window to hold the fringed velvet curtain aside. She saw the lights of the houses across the Steine, and at an upper window of the first one, a young woman looking back at her. Slender, with short blonde hair, she was dressed in a white evening gown with a blue sash, and the room behind her was lit by a dazzling chandelier. She seemed taken aback to see someone looking out of Radcliffe House, and stared so obviously that Megan hastily let the curtain fall into place again.

In the house opposite, Chloe Holcroft continued to gaze at Radcliffe House in astonishment. She had been at the window of the second-floor drawing room to watch Oliver March drive off after dining with her father and her, and she had been startled to see lights at Evangeline's house. Now she was even more startled to see a young woman she did not know.

She turned back into the room. 'Papa, I believe one of Lady Evangeline's Christmas guests must have arrived after all.'

'Mm?' Admiral Sir Jocelyn Holcroft didn't look up from the new newspaper, the Brighton Herald, which had only been in print for a month or so. He was still a handsome man, although his features were now marred by an eye patch over his left eye, and a livid white cutlass scar down his right check to the corner of his mouth, the result of an encounter with pirates in the Mediterranean. Once a distinguished uniformed figure commanding from the quarterdeck of one of the Royal Navy's finest first-raters, he was still impressive in the formal black velvet coat and white silk breeches of a civilian gentleman who had just had a guest to dinner.

Chloe gave him a cross look. 'The French fleet has just appeared on the horizon,' she remarked in a conversational tone.

'Mm?' The paper rustled as he turned the page.

'And they are putting longboats ashore to raid the town,' she went on. 'Can't you hear the warning bells of St. Nicholas's?'

He looked up with a start. 'Eh? Warning bells?'

'Oh, so you do listen eventually,' she declared. 'I vow the French really could be at the door, and you would still be browsing contentedly through that newspaper. The next time we have someone to dinner, I am going to insist that you take less port afterward, for I vow it makes you far too dull at the edges.'

He gave her a charming but rather sheepish smile. 'I'm sorry, my dear. Now, what was it you were saying?'

'Lady Evangeline is away for Christmas, but the lights are on at the house, and I have just seen a strange young woman looking out of the drawing room window.'

'Strange? In what way? Does she have two heads?'

Chloe became cross again. 'You know perfectly well what I mean, Papa!' He raised a teasing eyebrow, and she colored. 'I-I was wondering if perhaps one of her guests has arrived after all,' she added.

'We know all her usual guests,' he pointed out.

'Yes, but-'

'But?'

Chloe bit her lip and looked away. 'Well, perhaps I should go across-'

'And see if there is news of Rupert?' he finished for her.

'Certainly not!'

'That is a great pity.' He folded the newspaper and put it on the table beside his chair. 'From the heated manner of that last response. I must presume that you are still angry with him?'

'Angry? I'm not anything anymore, Papa. Rupert Radcliffe is of no interest to me, especially now that…' She didn't finish.

He got up and went to pour himself a large glass of cognac. 'I do hope that you were not about to mention Mr. March's name,' he murmured.

'And if I was?'

'I know that he has come to mean much to you, my dear, but I do not care for him.'

'Why not?' she asked in dismay. 'He has just been all that is charming and courteous.'

'I know, but I can't help how I feel,' her father replied, resuming his seat.

'Just because you and Lady Evangeline have decided that Rupert and I would be a fine match! That's it, isn't it? Well, I do not need to remind you that it was Rupert who broke our friendship, not me.'

'No, my dear, you do not need to remind me. Nor, I dare say, would you need to remind Rupert himself, who I am sure now regrets his actions.'

'I doubt that very much.'

'Chloe-'

'Papa, I do not wish to speak of Lord Rupert Radcliffe, indeed I do not even wish to think of him. Oliver is in my heart now, and I intend to continue to see him. Unless, of course, you mean to forbid it?'

'No, my dear, I will not do that, for I know only too well that to forbid you will only make you the more determined.'

'So you will not mind if he takes me to St. Nicholas's church in the morning, to help with the Christmas decorations?'

'I will mind very much, but I will not prevent you from going.'

'Well, that is that, then,' she declared, as she gathered her skirts and hastened from the room.

Her father gazed sadly after her. He didn't want Mr. Oliver March as a son-in-law, but he very much feared he was going to get him. He glanced toward the window. It was very tiresome of Evangeline et al to be away this Christmas. If things had gone on in the usual way, there might have been a chance to rectify the sorry situation, but with Evangeline in Bath and Rupert in London… well, the way was clear for Mr. March.

With a sigh, the admiral drained the glass of cognac, then grimaced.

Meanwhile at Radcliffe House, Megan had put the young woman in the house opposite from her thoughts, and was studying the portrait of Mrs. Siddons. Suddenly Rollo's footsteps crossed the hall again, and she turned with a gasp, having momentarily forgotten all about the ghost. Her curiosity got the better of her as the steps moved away, and she went out into the hall to follow the sound to the theater. She halted at the entrance, listening to Rollo walk down through the auditorium, past the strange black tent, then up on to the stage, where the curtain