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?"
"Since I was sixteen. I was with Lady Jane Strickland before being employed by Lady Evangeline." From the corner of her eye, Megan saw Oliver's startled reaction.
"Like Sir Jocelyn, I too thought I knew you. Now I know why," he said.
She looked warily at him. "Sir?"
"I am a close friend of Ralph Strickland's, and met Lady Jane with him once. I must have seen you then."
Her dismay returned. He and Ralph Strickland were friends? Somehow she managed to sound level as she replied. "Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten?"
"I encountered Ralph in London only two days ago, when I paid the capital a fleeting visit."
Megan's spirits plunged. She could tell that he had heard Ralph's version of the dismissal of Lady Jane's companion. No name could have been mentioned at the time, but now she herself had kindly provided him with the information, and by the cold, knowing glitter in his gaze she knew he was prepared to use this as ammunition to make her do as he wished. He wanted his past callousness toward her to remain secret, and if she told tales about it, he would spread lascivious tales about her.
She felt close to tears. All she wanted in life was a suitable position, a roof over her head, and a peaceful, dull existence; instead she seemed unable to avoid trouble. Oliver obviously thought Evangeline did not know the truth about Bath, and of course in that he was wrong, but would Evangeline feel able to continue employing a companion whose notoriety was the talk of Brighton? Probably not. And again there was Greville, who would take the tale as proof that all companions were jezebels. She didn't like the latter, but she did not want him to think his prejudice against her was fully vindicated! If she had glanced at his face at that moment, she would have realized that he had already heard Ralph's account, and believed it.
Greville tapped his cane thoughtfully against his boot. If March had met Strickland within the last few days, then he was bound to have heard some very unflattering facts about Miss Megan Mortimer, yet he gave no hint of it. The sudden acquisition of honor was hardly likely to be the case where he was concerned, nor was Strickland likely to have painted the lady pure white after all, so why was March being so courteous? Consideration for Chloe's sensitivities? Possibly. Perhaps it would be interesting to probe a little. So as the conversation turned to Twelfth Night, he drew a rather surprised Oliver aside.
Chapter 14
“How was Ralph when you saw him?" Greville asked Oliver.
"In excellent fettle. Why do you ask?" Suspicion oozed from Oliver, for it was most unlike Greville to make a courteous inquiry about Ralph Strickland's health.
"Oh, just that I too have seen him recently, and both he and Sophia seemed a little, well, overwrought concerning something that had apparently happened in Bath."
A veil descended over Oliver's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Seton. Besides, if there had been anything untoward at Bath, surely Lady Evangeline would know? Ralph told me that she had arrived there before he and Sophia left."
Greville gave a facile smile. "Yes, and she is now here in Brighton for Christmas, when she intended to spend it with Lady Jane. She will not volunteer a reason for the change of arrangements, and I was hoping you could shed some light. Clearly you cannot." He glanced at Megan, who was endeavoring to seem interested in Twelfth Night, but was actually more concerned about not being able to hear what he and March were saying. Her inordinate perturbation about the little tete-a-tete convinced him more and more that something was going on. Greville was certain that March knew all about events in Bath, and was equally certain that Megan knew March knew. That she would wish to keep the shameless circumstances of her dismissal a secret he could understand, but what was March's motive? Clearly not discretion in front of Chloe, otherwise the salacious details would be being divulged man-to-man right now!