by Sandra Heath
The little incident with Sybil had amused him greatly because he thought it served his cousin right for daring to stand up to him. But he would have liked Megan to be punished more. He paused as a new idea slid slyly into his head. How entertaining it would be to spread a little selective gossip about dear Cousin Megan, and who better to choose as his town criers than the two Garsington furies!
Oliver almost changed his mind as Mr. Mellish suddenly went over to the sofa ahead of him. The man in white had been very much in evidence since the ball commenced, prancing around the floor to every single measure, his stylish feet twinkling and his coattails swinging. He was most peculiar to watch because he lifted his legs high, kept his arms rigidly at his sides whenever possible, and didn't smile once, so it was impossible to say whether he was enjoying himself or not. But then Oliver remembered that if there was one thing Mr. Mellish did enjoy, it was spiteful gossip, which meant that he and the two Garsington women were ideal to employ at Megan Mortimer's expense! Smiling once more, Oliver went over to them.
At first he was not received warmly. Sybil's breath caught, and her face went oddly pale; Lady Garsington's eyes flickered icily, and Mr. Mellish raised his quizzing glass to peruse him. But no one could have been more concerned and solicitous than Oliver March, more intent upon inquiring after dear Sybil's mishap, or more desirous to let unfortunate bygones be bygones. Lady Garsington softened before such earnestness, and Mr. Mellish followed her lead, but Sybil continued to stare at him, her expression still rather peculiar. Oliver's glance moved uncertainly toward her, then he concentrated upon Lady Garsington.
"Dear lady, how very dreadful that such an unworthy creature as Lady Evangeline's companion should have dared to deliberately-"
Lady Garsington's fan snapped closed. "Lady Evangeline's what?" she demanded.
"Why, her companion. Didn't you know?"
"Of course I did not know!" replied Lady Garsington, her outraged gaze following Megan, who danced on unknowingly.
Oliver cleared his throat. "Lady Garsington, I realize that what I am about to say is rather, er, delicate, but I think it only right that you should be acquainted with the full facts where Miss Mortimer is concerned. You see, until very recently she was Lady Jane Strickland's companion."
Lady Garsington froze. "Lady Jane Strickland, you say?"
"I fear so."
Her ladyship's nostrils flared, and her lips pursed as if her mouth were full of vinegar. "That- that creature is the harpy who endeavored to wreck my dear Sophia's marriage?"
"Indeed so," Oliver said.
Mr. Mellish's eyes brightened, and he hoped some suitably salacious details would be forthcoming. He raised his quizzing glass and made much of studying Megan as she whirled to the invigorating reel.
Sybil gave a horrified gasp. "And Thir Gweville knowth of thith?" she demanded.
"I believe he must, as indeed must Lord Rupert," Oliver replied ambiguously, hoping to cause a little trouble for those two gentlemen while he was about it, but then added quickly. "However, I cannot imagine that Lady Evangeline is aware." Evangeline was held in such too high regard by the Holcrofts to risk implicating her as well.
Sybil pouted disappointedly, but then her speculative glance returned to Oliver, who happened to be looking at her mother and so missed it. If he had seen, he would have been greatly alarmed, for it heralded the full resumption of her interest in him.
Lady Garsington's fan snapped open again, and she wafted it busily before her face. "I will not suffer a servant to ape the lady and get away with it! How dare she intrude upon Polite Society!"
Mr. Mellish was all shocked concern as he probed for more information. "But my dear Lady Garsington, how can such a dull mouse possibly have caused any alarm to one as beautiful and vivacious as your daughter Sophia?"
Lady Garsington, ever susceptible to flattery of any description, was unwisely tempted into revelations. "That dull mouse endeavored quite shamelessly to seduce my son-in-law, but failed because he was too noble and faithful. He told my poor darling Sophia, of course, and demanded that his mother dismiss the wench forthwith. Miss Mortimer was sent packing, but it would seem she was not sent far enough because she is now nicely inserted at Radcliffe House. Well, I will not put up with it. Indeed I will not! I shall see to it that the little slyboots is frozen out of Brighton. Sir Greville and Lord Rupert will not escape my revenge either. Come, Sybil, we have whispers to spread."
Mr. Mellish bowed to them both. "I am your fervent ally in this, Lady Garsington, and will labor most strenuously on your behalf." With that he set off eagerly to commence his tittle-tattling.
It was then that Oliver's little plan with the eastern tincture went gravely wrong. He had been standing with the tray throughout, and as Sybil got up from the sofa, she suddenly reached out for a glass. Before he realized what was happening, she'd taken the one intended for Rupert, and had drunk it in one rather unladylike gulp.
Oliver was rooted to the spot. There was nothing he could do, for the deed had been accomplished. Now, instead of Lord Rupert Radcliffe making a very public spectacle of himself, it would be Sybil Garsington! He returned to Evangeline's sofa in dismay, watching as Sybil, her mother, and Mr. Mellish flitted from one person to the next, whispering eagerly to each one. More and more people turned to watch Megan, but Oliver's attention remained upon Sybil. It wouldn't be long now before the tincture started to work.
Sir Roger de Coverley came to a breathless end, and Rupert and Sir Jocelyn led their respective partners back to Evangeline's sofa. Almost immediately another reel was announced, Chichester Bells this time, and as soon as Sir Jocelyn and Evangeline had refreshed themselves from Oliver's tray, they hurried back on to the crowded floor to break into one of the sets. Oliver's smile was very forced as Chloe, Rupert, and Megan gratefully partook of the apple cup as well. His only consolation now was that his verbal troublemaking was going on handsomely; Megan might not yet know it, but the ball was positively buzzing about her.
Chichester Bells was a very hectic dance, with much whooping, stamping, and general merriment. Silk skirts fluttered, jewels glittered, plumes jiggled, coattails flapped, and beaming faces grew ever more red as the orchestra increased the tempo. Megan sipped the apple cup and watched the happy glances Evangeline was bestowing upon Sir Jocelyn. She was in love with him, Megan thought. She hoped the feeling was mutual, for she had swiftly become very fond indeed of her new mistress.
But then something happened to banish all pleasant thoughts from her mind. Drawling female voices carried loudly from the sofa on the other side of the ferns, where two very superior ladies were seated. One was in a cloth-of-gold gown and matching turban, the other in blue-and-cream stripes with enormous plumes springing from her hair, and they were passing some very cutting comments about Megan's appearance and situation. They did not mention her by name, but then they did not need to, for it was only too obvious of whom they spoke.
The lady in gold could not have been more condemnatory. "Well, I suppose her gown is well made enough, but so unutterably dull! Not a jewel to behold, and those pansies in her hair are so provincial, if not to say bucolic! Did you ever see anything so gauche?"
"In my nursery days, mayhap."
"My dear, did you hear she is only a companion?"
"So I understand. C'est incroyable, n'est ce pas?" The lady in blue-and-silver tinkled with spiteful laughter.
The lady in gold laughed too. "What can Sir Greville be feeling? The poor lamb is having to lower himself to such a degree that he is all but underground. One could not help but notice how he positively fled from the floor at the end of that last minuet. I dare say he could not bear her a moment longer. And then she had the gall to deliberately trip poor Sybil Garsington in order to keep her from him!"
"Did you also hear that the creature made a play for Ralph Strickland, and under his mother's roof as well? Not only that, but his Sophia was staying there too! The trollop has no shame, no shame at all! I am sure that if
Evangeline were aware of it all, she would send the little baggage packing!"
Megan's eyes stung with tears, and she wished she had chosen to wear a domino that would have hidden the mortified color that now stained her cheeks. Rupert and Chloe exchanged shocked glances, but Oliver smiled. Society's grapevine was bearing fruit more swiftly than he had dared to hope.
Chloe put a reassuring hand out to Megan. "Ignore them, for they are nasty tabbies."
"I can't ignore them, Miss Holcroft."
"Yes, you can."
Megan looked at her through her tears. "But there is a grain of truth in what they say! I was at the center of an embarrassing stir at Lady Jane's house, and I did cause Miss Garsington to fall tonight!"
Chloe's fingers rested kindly over her arm. "I am acquainted with Mr. Strickland, and know him for the lecher he is, so I do not for a single moment believe that you pounced upon him. As for what happened tonight, it was hardly your fault. It was an accident, pure and simple. So please don't let those dreadful old biddies upset you!" She then raised her own voice in the full intention of being heard on the other sofa. "They are only annoyed because unlike you, their lumps of daughters do not merit a second glance from Greville!" The ladies gave outraged gasps and got up to stalk haughtily away. "Serves them right!" Chloe breathed, so angry on Megan's behalf that she was trembling.
Megan was already distressed, but became more so as she ventured to glance around the ballroom. Misery struck through her as she realized she was the subject of a great many conversations. Faces were turned toward her, quizzing glasses flashed, fans hid whispering lips. This was what she had dreaded.
Chapter 25
Chichester Bells finished, and Evangeline and Sir Jocelyn began to return to the sofa, but before reaching it they were accosted by Mr. Mellish. Megan was to learn later that under the guise of righteous concern he was informing Evangeline what "some persons" were stooping to spread about her companion.
He was still engaged upon this little exercise when a landler was announced. Chloe turned quickly to Oliver. "May I crave a favor of you?" she asked.
"Your wish is my command," he replied eagerly.
She smiled sweetly. "I want you to lead Miss Mortimer out for this measure."
His smile vanished, and Megan wished the floor would open up and swallow her, but Chloe pressed on. "She is the victim of a campaign of whispers, sir, and it is up to us to show we do not give a fig for such lies."
"Please, Miss Holcroft-" Megan began, but Chloe put up a hand to silence her protest.
"I am set upon it, Miss Mortimer."
Megan became agitated. "Please, Miss Holcroft, it really doesn't matter-"
"It most certainly does!" Chloe fixed her large blue eyes upon Oliver, whose reluctance to comply with her request was only too evident. "I'm sure you do not wish to disappoint me tonight, sir."
"Er, no, of course not." He did not want to be seen dancing with the cousin he had gone to such lengths to make the talk of the ball, but nor did he wish to offend Chloe, so with ill grace he extended a white-gloved hand. "Miss Mortimer?"
Megan did not feel able to refuse, even though that was very much what she wished to do, so she reluctantly slipped her fingers into his. His grip tightened harshly as he led her on to the floor. The landler was an intimate measure for couples, not sets, and as the orchestra struck the opening chord, he linked her arms to hold her at the elbows. The dance commenced, and all she could see was the cold glitter of his eyes behind his mask, all she could hear were the two piercing voices of the women. Everything whirled almost dizzily past, and she glimpsed the sofa, where Evangeline and Sir Jocelyn were now in urgent conversation with Chloe and Rupert. Then Greville joined them, his face pale and angry as he gestured toward the room in general.
Megan's heart began to pound, and she felt so close to sobbing out loud that suddenly she couldn't bear it any longer. She came to an abrupt halt, and pulled away from Oliver. "I-I cannot go on, sir," she said.
Many nearby couples hesitated perceptibly, for attention was upon the two people now standing stock-still in the middle of the floor. Oliver was dismayed to find himself the center of this particular stage. She was the one who was meant to. be humiliated, not him! His thin veneer of manners cracked, and he lost his temper. "By all means let us abandon this dance, madam! Believe me, I have no desire to be seen with you anyway!" he declared in a tone that was only too audible to the many listening ears. There were gasps and more whispers as he turned on his heel to walk away.
It was too much for Megan. Catching up her skirts, she fled. She didn't know where she was going, just that she needed to escape from the horrors of the ballroom. The main door of the assembly rooms stood open to the snowy night, and she halted on the threshold. Ship Street was white now, and a passing carriage made hardly a sound, except for the jingle of harness and the crunch of the wheels on the ever deepening carpet. The cold did not seem to touch her at all as she turned her face up to the flakes, striving not to cry. Red tearstained eyes would be the very last straw.
"Miss Mortimer?" Greville said, and she turned in dismay.
"Oh. Sir Greville…"
"What happened during that landler? Why did March walk away like that?" he asked, searching her face in the light that streamed out from behind him.
"Is it not obvious, sir? Please do not tell me that you do not know I am the scandal of the moment. My cousin did not wish to dance with such a shocking creature."
"Then, why did he ask you?"
"Miss Holcroft insisted." Megan searched in her reticule for her handkerchief. "Anyway, it is all too much, and I've come out here for a little fresh air."
"Fresh? Miss Mortimer, it is virtually arctic!" He smiled.
"I feel the heat," she replied, managing a very small smile in return.
"Ah, yes, so you do." He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded as he continued to look at her. "I have heard what is being said of you here tonight, and think you should know that Ralph Strickland's name is being circulated as well."
She looked quickly away. "At least there is nothing more that can possibly come out." Who had started it? Why, Oliver, of course, for who else would stoop so very low?
"I trust you do not think I had anything to do with it?" Greville said then.
"No, of course not. It would be impossible to prove, but I would guess my cousin to be the instigator."
Greville's lips parted. When he had been keeping out of Sybil's way, he had seen Oliver speaking with her, Lady Garsington, and Mellish. Yes, Megan's blackguardly kinsman was the source!
Megan watched the expressions crossing his face. "Please do not say anything to him, Sir Greville, for I am already infamous enough without him choosing to make things even worse for me."
"The fellow needs to be taught a lesson."
"I know, but I would prefer to let things die down."
He hesitated, but then nodded. "If that is your wish."
"It is."
Their eyes met, and he smiled a little. "I do hope you are able to forgive me for the way I behaved when first we met."
"It is forgotten, Sir Greville. Besides, you have redeemed yourself tonight."
"Have I? If I hadn't scuttled off and left after begging you to…"
"Keep Miss Sybil Garsington away from you? Sir Greville, I do believe you think I tripped her on purpose!"
He straightened uncomfortably from the doorjamb. "Did you?"
"Certainly not! It was an accident."
He grinned a little sheepishly. "And here I was thinking you'd gone to such noble lengths on my behalf."
"What overweening male vanity," she replied, but smiled back at him.
"That is what comes from being constantly pursued by hopeful brides."
"One day you will meet someone you will not wish to avoid, sir."
He laughed. "Possibly. Although to be truthful I find the prospect of marriage a little daunting. So few unions are an unqualified success that I may take a l
eaf out of Aunt E's book and remain single."
"But Lady Evangeline does not wish to remain single, sir," Megan replied.
"What do you mean?"
"It may not be my place to say, but I have watched her when she is with Sir Jocelyn, and-"
"Sir Jocelyn?" Greville was taken aback.
"Haven't you noticed? She smiles like a young girl whenever he is near, and at such times her pink cheeks are not on account of her flushes."
"But they have known each other almost all their lives."
"So have Lord Rupert and Miss Holcroft," she reminded him.
"True, but I am sure Aunt E only regards Sir Jocelyn as a dear, dear friend. There was someone once, but he broke her heart."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know, but she carries his likeness in her locket."
"So that's what is in it." Megan thought of the many times she had seen Evangeline's fingers creep to touch the locket. She glanced at Greville again. "I still believe she is in love with Sir Jocelyn now, and if I were of a wagering disposition, I would put my money upon it."
"A lady's companion with a gambling streak? What is the world coming to?"
Megan laughed. "Rack and ruin, sir, rack and ruin."
He became suddenly more serious. "Those sharp-beaked old broiler hens were wrong to describe you as gauche, for that is one thing you are certainly not, nor is your gown dull or your hair ornament provincial. As to bucolic…! Miss Mortimer-Megan-I have already complimented you upon your appearance tonight, and now I will say it again. You look very well indeed; in fact, you look quite lovely."
She went a little pink, and hardly noticed the use of her first name. "Oh, come, Sir Greville, we both know that I cannot hold a candle to the other ladies here tonight."