Oliver was shaking his head. "No, I cannot shed any light at all because I know nothing."
"I see. Well, that's that, then." Greville gave another facile smile, and turned back to the others just as Twelfth Night was abandoned in favor of London gossip. Chloe was anxious to hear everything. "You have been in London for some time now, Greville, so I expect you to be bang up to the mark with on dits."
As Greville began to recount the news from the capital, Megan wondered greatly what he and Oliver had been talking about. Surely Oliver could not have regaled him with her inappropriate advances? No, somehow she thought not, because that would mean the very real risk of his own past misdeeds being exposed. Her gaze moved to Oliver, who was once again dancing attendance upon Chloe with such doglike devotion that it was impossible not to know he had marriage in mind. No wonder Brighton daily expected an announcement, she thought, marveling anew that Chloe and her father could be so easily duped into thinking him suitable.
From London the conversation moved to Brighton, and the social calendar up to Christmas. Chloe enthused about the next night's masked ball, and expressed immense delight that Megan would be attending as well. When Rupert's name was mentioned, however, she did not seem in the least enthusiastic, indeed she made much of changing the subject. Megan wasn't quite sure whether it was for Oliver's benefit, or she really wasn't interested in Rupert, or if it was a screen to hide her true feelings. It had to be one of the three, and this time Megan did not care to hazard a guess.
Another carriage pulled up alongside the other vehicles by the library, and a middle-aged lady and gentleman alighted. Megan did not know who they were, but she saw the appalled expression on Oliver's face, and could not help but notice how he immediately tried unsuccessfully to persuade Chloe to take a drive with him in his curricle. Greville smiled sleekly at Oliver's discomfort, for the lady and gentleman were Lord and Lady Garsington.
The head of the unmusical family of musicians was a stout, beak-nosed man who still liked to wear the powdered wig and tricorn hat of his youth. Not for him the elegance of a greatcoat; instead he preferred a fur-trimmed cloak, as did his bespectacled wife. Lady Garsington was his equal when it came to stoutness, but had a small upturned nose and buck teeth, putting Megan in mind of a studious, overweight mouse. Her ladyship's shortsighted gaze soon alighted upon Greville, and she nudged her husband.
They bore down upon the small group on the verandah, and immediately made their feelings very plain where each person was concerned. Greville and Sir Jocelyn received warm smiles and kind inquires regarding health, Megan-introduced merely as Miss Mortimer-was granted a brief glance that assessed her as a nonentity who did not warrant the condescension of a greeting, Oliver was frozen out completely because he had committed the unpardonable sin of casting aside their daughter Sybil, and Chloe was given a fixed smile because although she was the reason for Oliver's defection, she was also Sir Jocelyn's daughter.
The purpose of the Garsingtons' foray to the library was soon apparent; they had decided to mark Christmas Eve with another musical extravaganza, and at such short notice they were at a struggle to find guests. Mr. Mellish was always ready to accept, but apart from him their hopes had to rest with those who had just come to town and who had yet to fill their diary, or those they caught unawares, like poor Sir Jocelyn.
"Ah, Admiral," gushed her ladyship. "I do trust that you and dear Miss Holcroft will be able to attend our little soiree musicale on Sunday evening?"
Chloe's father, that grand seafaring man who had faced many an enemy without flinching, gave a start like a nervous rabbit. "Eh? Oh, I-"
"Good," Lady Garsington interrupted smoothly. "We will expect you at eight. Oh, and you, of course, dear Sir Greville."
Megan lowered her eyes, for the omission of Oliver and herself was so pointed as to be rude. Why Oliver was in the woman's bad books Megan couldn't imagine, but her own exclusion was clearly due to her less than superior appearance. Yet for all Lady Garsington knew, she might be an eccentric princess who liked to travel incognito! Megan hid a smile at this preposterous thought, but nevertheless it was true to say that Lady Garsington's manners and judgment left a great deal to be desired.
But if Megan was considered beneath consideration, Greville certainly was not. Lady Garsington knew he had replaced Oliver in Sybil's affections, and so singled him out for particular indulgence. "Sir Greville, what a very agreeable surprise it is to find you here in Brighton after all. Your dear aunt told me you were staying in London this Christmas."
"I was." He saw the tit-for-tat smirk on Oliver's face.
Lady Garsington continued to gush. "Well, you can only just have arrived here, so do tell me how my dearest Sybil was when you left."
"I have no idea how she was," he replied, hoping to convey his complete lack of interest in Sybil Garsington.
Lady Garsington gave a twitter of laughter, and reworded the question. "Well, how was she when last you saw her?"
"Er, in excellent spirits," Greville answered. Excellent spirits? The unmanageable creature had been as frisky as a cart horse in season!
"I'm sure you will be delighted to hear that she and Sigismund are also returning in the next day or so. Oh, how foolish of me, for of course you must already know."
The implication that he was only in Brighton in order to be close to Sybil was almost too much for Greville's sensibilities. Something had to be done that would make absolutely clear his indifference to her frightful offspring. Oliver had done it by besieging Chloe instead; Greville's thoughts raced, and on impulse he took Megan's hand, startling her greatly by drawing it very deliberately over his sleeve and leaving his fingers resting warmly on hers. Then he beamed at Lady Garsington. "No, I'm afraid I didn't know Sybil and Sigismund were returning," he said untruthfully. Nor do I care, he added silently.
The taking of Megan's hand caused Lady Garsington's face to alter most comically, and she drew back as if a vile odor had suddenly assaulted her nostrils. After murmuring something about having much to do, she and his lordship then stalked away into the library, which suddenly sinking ship was immediately subjected to the scrambled exit of fashionable rats. Nothing could be more guaranteed to disperse a gathering than the approach of the Garsingtons.
The sudden departure of people obliged the party on the verandah to divide, and Megan found herself stepping aside with Greville. She took the opportunity to make her displeasure known, for companion or not, she would not be treated like that. "I do not like being used, sir," she said, snatching her hand from his sleeve.
"I concede that it was ill done on my part, Miss Mortimer, but if you knew their daughter…"
"I don't care what reason you have, Sir Greville, for the fact that I am only Lady Evangeline's companion does not entitle you to-"
"I know," he interrupted. "I can only ask you to forgive the imposition, Miss Mortimer."
She gave a curt nod. "The matter is at an end, sir." She turned to go, meaning to quit the library and scurry back to Radcliffe House.
"Miss Mortimer…?"
"Sir?"