Greville had seen the clothes taken into the alcove, and considered them far too good for mousy Miss Mortimer, who did not warrant such plumes. The curtain hadn't been properly drawn across, and he could just see the flick of a ruby dinner gown in part of the mirror. Thus was a companion being raised above her station in life, he thought sourly. Then he saw Megan's profile for a moment. With her smile and soft brown eyes, and her thick brown hair made unexpectedly rich by the ruby of the gown, she was perhaps more handsome than he gave credit for, and there was something very graceful and ingenuous about the way she turned her head to see herself from a different angle. Had she been anything other than a companion, he would have found her tolerable. Annoyed with the route his thoughts were taking, he looked out of the window instead.
Half an hour later, the better by the ruby dinner gown, an apricot-and-white-striped woolen morning gown, a simple white silk evening gown that would serve well for the following night's ball, a gray velvet spencer, and a fine dark-green woolen cloak richly trimmed with honey-colored fur, all of which would soon be on their way to Radcliffe House, Megan and Greville left the repository again.
As they emerged on to the pavement, Megan was dismayed to see Oliver drive past toward the Steine like a fox pursued by hounds. He was dressed as he had been in the churchyard that morning, and he clearly considered his driving to be very much the tippy, for he brought the swaying curricle to a flourishing standstill by the crush of vehicles on the corner by Donaldson's. Vaulting down, he vanished into the library after flinging the reins and a coin into the eager hands of one of the local boys hanging around for just such lucrative tasks.
Greville glowered after him. "March is a fellow I would delight in seeing overturned," he muttered.
"I would too," Megan said without thinking. She knew it was simply postponing the evil moment, but nevertheless she still hoped she and Greville would pass by without encountering her loathed cousin.
"You are acquainted with him?" Greville asked.
"I-I met him once a long time ago, and this morning I encountered him again with Miss Holcroft by the-"
"You are acquainted with Miss Holcroft as well?" Greville interrupted in surprise.
"Well, not exactly. I happened to meet them both when I was out walking this morning."
"And where was this?"
"In St. Nicholas's churchyard."
Greville halted. "Did you indeed? And what were they doing there?" he inquired, beginning to fear things might have progressed as far as the ordering of the banns.
"Miss Holcroft had been helping with the Christmas decorations."
"Ah, yes." He relaxed a little, but still looked at her. "I went to St. Nicholas's myself this morning, after changing my mind about riding with Rupert on the Downs."
"Oh?"
He gave a dry laugh. "Miss Mortimer, I can tell by your face that although I did not see you, you certainly saw me."
She flushed a little. "I happened to be up in the gallery when you came in, but I made certain to keep out of your way."
"Indeed? Well, I dare say that is an honest reply."
"I dare say it is too," she replied.
"Don't presume to employ the edge of your tongue upon me, madam." For a split second he was tempted to tell her he knew all about her disgraceful behavior in Bath, but he didn't. He intended to write to his friend when they returned to the house, and as soon as confirmation had arrived of Miss Megan Mortimer's wrongdoing, he would expose her for what she really was.
Megan had been stung into forgetting herself. "Then, you should not punish me for events in which I had absolutely no hand! I have grievances too, not least that when I was sixteen I was thrown out of house and home by my male cousin. Am I then justified in tarring all gentlemen with the same odious brush? Why not? If such an abysmal standard is fit for you, then it is fit for me as well!"
His gray eyes became icy. "You overreach yourself, Miss Mortimer."
Caution now eluded her completely. "Perhaps, but after enduring you for an hour that might as well have been a lifetime, I feel very much better! You may rest assured that in future I will avoid you to the best of my ability, and if I am able to keep out of your way entirely, I will be more than glad of it!" With that she stepped into the road right in front of a fly-by-night.
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.