She lowered her eyes. "You do not have to do anything on my behalf, Sir Greville."
He put his gloved hand to her chin, and raised her face to make her look at him. "You do both of us less than justice, Megan Mortimer. I have much to thank you for, not least that you have made me take a close look at myself. What I saw did not please me, and I am resolved to improve. Tell me, do you think you can be an accomplished actress for an hour or so?"
"What do you mean?" His thumb moved softly against her skin, and she suppressed the pleasure that tingled through her.
"All will soon be revealed. We are going to return to the ball, and once there I want you to follow my lead. We're going to give Brighton society something to really gossip about. Come!"
In the ballroom at that moment, Oliver was standing in glum isolation behind the Radcliffe House sofa. Chloe had rebuked him very sternly indeed for his disgraceful conduct during the landler. Now she refused to speak to him, and had even made a point of inviting Rupert to join her on the sofa. Evangeline and Sir Jocelyn, who were also highly displeased with him for the landler, took up the only other places. He would have been ostracized far more if they had all known the true extent of his odiousness that night.
He blamed Megan for his predicament, reasoning that if she hadn't halted as she did during the dance, he wouldn't have been goaded into losing his temper, so Chloe would still be smiling at him and Lord Rupert Radcliffe would not be making headway! That he had brought it all upon himself, and indeed warranted society's equivalent of excommunication, simply did not occur to him.
He was so preoccupied with his self-pity that Sybil Garsington and the tincture had slipped his mind, but at that moment she was sprawled on her parents' sofa. Her knees were apart in a most unladylike fashion, her turban was at a very peculiar angle, her face was scarlet, and she was staring ardently at him. Abandoned was the word to describe her, and her parents were thoroughly alarmed.
Sigismund was more furious than alarmed, for it was plain to him that this was more than mere inebriation. His sister had imbibed a drink that had been tampered with, and if he discovered who that person was…! His eyes were alight with violent intent, and he was already mentally deciding whether to gut the villain with a sword or puncture him between the eyes with a pistol.
Sybil suddenly gave a loud giggle, and got up unsteadily to wave across at Oliver. "Cooee!" she screeched, employing a new word from Australia that she had decided she liked very much. Still waving, she jumped up and down so that her generous bosom wobbled like jelly. "Cooee, Mr. March! Pleathe come and danth with me!"
Lady Garsington burst into floods of tears, and her husband stood there as if possessed of two left legs. Oliver was aghast. Dear God, his brew was working with a vengeance! Then her overheated gaze met his, and his heart plummeted as he realized he was once again the object of Sybil Garsington's desire.
Sigismund caught his sister by the arm. "It's time to take you back to the house," he said, but that wasn't what Sybil wanted at all. With another piglet squeal she broke free of him, then scampered across the dance floor, scattering couples in all directions. Sigismund set off in pursuit, but lost her near the supper room. He glanced around for a long time, then gave up and returned to his parents. Behind him, the tablecloth on one of the supper tables was raised, and Sybil peeped out. Then she exploded into hysterical giggles and drew back out of sight again.
A cotillion was announced, and it was at this point that Greville led Megan back to Evangeline's sofa. Evangeline and Sir Jocelyn immediately got up to make sure Megan had not been too distressed by what had happened, but there was no time to talk because Greville bent quickly to Rupert.
"I want you and Chloe to make up a foursome for this cotillion with Megan and me," he said quickly.
Rupert was startled. "So it's Megan now, eh?"
"Just do it, there's a good fellow."
Rupert got up, and seized Chloe's hand. "Come on, we're under orders," he said, and without a murmur she rose as well.
Greville held Megan by the hand to lead her on to the floor. "Remember, now," he said, "you are just to follow my lead, and I am not simply referring to dance steps." She looked inquiringly at him, but he said nothing more.
Chapter 26
There were renewed whispers as Sir Greville Seton and Lord Rupert Radcliffe escorted their partners onto the quickly filling floor, where numerous sets were seeking a space. But just as the dancers had sorted themselves out, there was a delay because the orchestra discovered a problem. A string had broken on one of the violins, and the violinist had to scurry away to get another.
As the ball waited, Greville caught Megan's eyes and smiled. Evangeline and Sir Jocelyn had resumed their places on the sofa, and when they saw that smile, Evangeline's eyes brightened. "I do believe one of my plans is on the point of success, Jocelyn."
"Only one? My dear, there are two plans in that set."
"So there are." She glanced behind to bestow an unsympathetic glance upon Oliver, who was glowering at Rupert as if hoping he would vanish, then she turned back to Jocelyn and lowered her voice. "And plan three stands to the rear of this sofa! I have resolved to see our Mr. March sent packing, which I do believe is what will happen after his shabby behavior tonight. When I think of how he conducted himself in that landler, I vow I could box his obnoxious ears!"
"Chloe will soon box them for you, I fancy. By the way, she is asking questions about Miss Mortimer."
"Questions?"
He nodded. "It has not escaped her notice that you are showing your new companion a great deal of favor. I happen to know she has asked Rupert, but he says he and Greville know nothing. They are all very curious about your marked interest in Miss Mortimer."
"I'm sure they are, but until I tell Miss Mortimer herself, I have no intention of confiding in them. You are the only one I have trusted with the truth."
"I'm flattered."
She looked toward the dancers, who were still awaiting the violinist. "I was desperately afraid that Greville's detestation of companions would prove too great a stumbling block, but to know her is to be charmed by her. She has spirit too, which he has always liked in a woman. Oh, Jocelyn, I have all my fingers and toes crossed for this, because it would be the match of my dreams. She is the daughter I could have had, should have had…"
He smiled fondly. "My dear, she is very fortunate to have such a fine mother-by-proxy."
"What a very cumbersome title, to be sure." Evangeline drew a long breath. "To be truthful, Jocelyn, I am unsure what to say to her. I will have to tell her soon, but it will not be easy; after all she is really nothing to do with me. With hindsight, I wish I had been open from the outset, but I dithered, decided to tread carefully by pretending I was in need of a companion, and now I am in a quandary. What if she regards me as a meddling busybody?"
"I think your motives are laudable, Evangeline, and when Miss Mortimer learns them, I am sure she will think so too. She has every reason in the world to be grateful to you, and if your hopes for her future are successful, as they do indeed seem likely to be, then she will have benefited quite considerably from your meddling."
Oliver's attention had now been drawn to the two on the sofa. What were they talking about so secretively? he wondered. It was obviously something very confidential, and if he stepped just a little closer, perhaps he would be able to hear… But as he began to edge forward, a shrill voice made him freeze.
"Cooee! Cooee, Mithter March!"
Sybil Garsington! Oliver glanced right and left like a hunted animal, then took to his elegant heels toward the entrance hall.