Rupert colored. "I, er…" Then he fell silent, for what she said was quite true. Then the import of what she had said about Megan began to sink in, and his glance slid uncomfortably toward Greville, whose opinion of companions was hardly a secret.
Greville was appalled. Not only had he and Rupert walked into the lion's Christmas den after all, but there was a damned companion here as well!
Evangeline's peach taffeta rustled irritably as she came into the room. "Now, then, sirs, since you are here, allow me to formally present Miss Mortimer, who was Lady Jane Strickland's companion, but is now mine."
Greville's face became very still, and Rupert recalled what had been said in the garden at Hanover Square. This was the same companion who had so brazenly attempted to seduce Ralph Strickland? She certainly didn't look brazen, he thought, nor would Aunt E have employed her if there was any truth in the story Ralph was putting about.
Evangeline continued. "I trust you will both make her feel welcome, for she is about to become very much part of my household. She will be taking her meals with us, and is to be treated with respect in every way."
Megan's lips parted. Take her meals with them? Oh, that was not at all the thing! Her place was in the kitchens with the other servants.
Evangeline observed Greville's stony expression. "Sir, pray do not forget my wishes in this, for your private attitudes are not to be aired while beneath my roof. It is hardly Miss Mortimer's fault that your fool of a father ran off with your mother's companion when you were only six."
He was nettled that she should express such a derogatory opinion in front of Megan. "Aunt E, I hardly think Miss Mortimer is interested in my childhood," he replied in a tone as blunt as hers.
Evangeline already regretted her sharp tongue. "I shouldn't have said that. Please forgive me. It's just that it grieves me to see you still so bitter about something that happened such a long time ago. On top of which, I hardly think it is fair of you to direct your antagonism toward Miss Mortimer without her knowing why you feel as you do."
Greville didn't reply, and his silence conveyed that he didn't consider it to be any of Miss Mortimer's business.
Evangeline looked at him. "Greville, if only you would understand and accept that with your father gone, the last five years of your mother's life were far happier."
"I beg to differ on that point."
"But you were only eleven and away at Eton when she died. She was happier, believe me. Anyway, I wish you to let bygones be bygones while you are in this house." Evangeline decided to give him a moment or two to consider this, so she introduced Rupert to Megan first. "Miss Mortimer, this is my nephew and heir, Lord Rupert Radcliffe."
Rupert had been observing Megan, and was now of the firm opinion that she could not possibly be the scheming witch Ralph Strickland claimed, so he stepped gallantly forward to raise her hand to his lips. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Mortimer."
"Lord Rupert," she replied with a grateful smile. At least he was a gentleman!
Evangeline braced herself as she turned to Greville again. "And this disagreeable fellow is Sir Greville Seton. I forget what his relationship to me is exactly, but suffice it that he is definitely family."
Greville had no intention of emulating Rupert, but if Aunt E required politeness, politeness she would have. "Miss Mortimer," he murmured, and showed the limit of his chivalry by merely inclining his head.
"Sir."
Evangeline wasn't about to let him off lightly. "Sir, I think you should apologize to Miss Mortimer for your disgraceful physical attack upon her."
Greville was provoked. "Aunt E, this was my room when I departed for Mahomed's Baths, so it was reasonable enough to presume that it was still my room when I returned. When I found someone in a hooded cloak apparently examining my luggage, of course I thought it was a thief!"
"So you acted first, and asked questions afterward. I'm deeply disappointed in you, Greville, for I thought such lamentable conduct was the preserve of half-witted hotheads like Sigismund Garsington."
Megan felt dreadful, and wished the whole business could be dropped.
"Aunt E," Greville answered in a labored tone, "if I were Sigismund Garsington, I'd have fired a pistol at Miss Mortimer, not simply apprehended her. However, you are right to castigate me for my actions, and so I will indeed apologize." He turned to Megan. "I trust you are able to forgive me, Miss Mortimer, for you may be sure that if I had realized, I would not have dreamed of acting as I did."
"Of course I forgive you, sir." She didn't really, but there was little else she could say.
Evangeline was satisfied. "I have removed you to the mauve chamber, Greville, because I wish Miss Mortimer to be close to me. Fosdyke has aired it and had a fire kindled there, so it will be sufficiently warm by the time you retire tonight."
"As you wish, Aunt E, but it would have been pleasant if I had been informed of this when Rupert and I came back from the baths. Such consideration would have prevented me from making such an error."
"Fosdyke was instructed to do so, but he clearly did not realize you had returned. Besides, who are you to carp about being kept informed? I do not recall being informed that you were going to take liberties with my home in my absence."
He knew he was beaten, and gave her a wry smile. "I concede defeat, Aunt E. The laurels are yours."
"Yes, I rather think they are," she declared archly.
"Do you really mind us being here?" he asked, knowing she didn't.
"Of course not, you silly boy." Evangeline fingered the gold locket at her throat. Mind? On the contrary, for their timely arrival on the scene speeded up her plans considerably. "Now, then, gentlemen, I believe you have both forgotten something." She presented her cheek for a kiss.
Rupert obliged warmly, but as Greville kissed her as well, she tapped his sleeve with her fan. "Why, your shampoo has left you smelling of rosemary. It is quite appetizing. I almost wish Mrs. Fosdyke were preparing some mutton, or better still, some sweet Welsh lamb."
"It was not my intention to smell like a roast dinner," he replied.
"Nor, I'll warrant, was it your intention to spend Christmas with me," she observed shrewdly.
"That isn't so. I'm more than pleased that you have returned," he protested untruthfully, then added. "Er, why have you returned?"
"Oh, this and that," she murmured, studying his face. "Acting will never be your strong suit, will it? Be honest, sir, you are absolutely horrified to see me, and already you begin to suffer the onset of stage fright! How is your Malvolio coming along?"
"He isn't," Greville replied frankly. "Aunt E, I may as well be honest; I have no intention of being Malvolio or anyone else."
"Nonsense." Her eyes were wickedly knowing. "Greville, I can just see you in cross-gartered yellow stockings, and although I concede that it will be out of period, I think it might be amusing to fit you with the Henry VIII codpiece as well."
Rupert made a strangulated noise, and Greville was aghast. "Aunt E, I positively, absolutely refuse to even consider that-that thing!” The codpiece in question had been hidden away at the very back of the theater wardrobe for two years now, because of its shocking size. It had been intended for a production of Shakespeare's Henry VIII, but Evangeline had been so certain that its appearance onstage would result in charges of indecency, that it had languished among the wardrobe cobwebs ever since.
She pursed her lips. "Well, on reflection perhaps it would be a little too much, but the stockings stay, for they are essential to the play."