by Sandra Heath
Greville would dearly have liked to deal out Oliver's punishment himself, but he had promised Megan he would not do anything, and he was a man of his word. So he had to content himself with watching someone else do the honors, and at least had the comfort of knowing that Sigismund Garsington was a very thorough fellow!
Rupert was delighted to see his rival routed, but then his cup almost overflowed with exultation when Oliver received a very curt conge from Chloe. Oliver begged her to believe in his innocence, but Sir Jocelyn told him that if he ever spoke to his daughter again, Sigismund's would not be the only second to call!
The ball had eventually come to an end. There had been carol-singing by the light of the Yule logs, then mulled wine had been served, and at last everyone had departed. There was much intrigued murmuring concerning the following night's planned musical entertainment at Garsington House, and human nature being what it was, many of those who had previously done their utmost to avoid an invitation, now decided to attend after all, the hope being that Sybil might treat them all to another of her shocking displays. On the other hand, there were certain guests who had now decided that on no account would they be going after all; the names Radcliffe, Holcroft, and Seton would definitely not be announced at Garsington House, because by the next night Oliver might have "come to heel" and be in dutiful future-son-in-law attendance.
As Evangeline's carriage drew up at Radcliffe House, and she looked up at the house that had been her home for such a long time, she knew the moment had come to tell Greville and Rupert of her decision. They heard the news with dismay, but did not attempt to change her mind because they knew there was no point. Once Aunt E had decided a certain course of action was the right and sensible thing to do, there was no budging her. She clearly felt that it was time to move on from Radcliffe House, and that was that. Little was said when they entered the house, which they all, even Megan, now saw with different eyes. This was its last Christmas before being signed away to a royal doom. Nothing would ever be the same again, either for the family or this corner of the Steine. Everyone went to the drawing room to talk a little before retiring, but Megan was still too embarrassed and awkward to join them for long. She excused herself at the first opportunity, but as she reached the staircase, Greville came out of the drawing room behind her.
"Megan?"
She paused with a hand on the garlanded newel post, then turned reluctantly. "Sir Greville?"
"Are we to be formal again?" he asked as he came toward her.
"I-I think it best."
"Why?"
She looked into his eyes. "Because you were merely making a point tonight, Sir Greville."
"I concede that is how it commenced, but-"
"And it is also best, because I am Lady Evangeline's paid companion whereas you are a titled gentleman of considerable fortune," she interrupted quietly.
"A titled gentleman of considerable fortune who is well able to decide for himself what is best."
"Yes, and I am sure that in the morning you will decide very differently from now."
Suddenly he put his hand over hers on the newel post. "You seem sure of how I will feel, Megan, but what of you? How do you feel?" he asked softly.
The warmth of his touch made the blood pulse more wildly through her veins, but she strove to appear calm. "I feel embarrassed," she said, trying to slide her hand away.
He would not let her escape. "Embarrassed? Is that all?"
She looked away. "Please, sir…"
"My name is Greville, Megan, and after the kiss we shared tonight, I rather think it appropriate if you address me by it, don't you?"
Her gaze fled to his again. "I can't! I am Lady Evangeline's employee, and you-"
He broke in. "I know, I'm a titled gentleman of considerable fortune who was only making a point, but I am also a man who found something wonderful beneath the mistletoe tonight. Do you imagine that such kisses are easy to come by? If you do, you are wrong."
"What are you saying?"
He smiled. "Simply that I do not wish to feel any differently in the morning," he replied, and stepped close enough to put an arm around her waist and pull her to him. His lips caressed hers for a long moment-long enough for him to know by the reeling of his senses that what had happened at the ball had not been a transient thing-then he released her. "Good, night, and the sweetest of dreams, Megan," he said huskily, then returned to the drawing room. Heart pounding, she fled up the stairs.
The sweetest of dreams did indeed come Megan's way that night, dreams of lying in Greville's arms, his lips to hers; his body to hers… There was no propriety in what she dreamt, no inhibitions or rules, nothing to hold back the tide of desire that overwhelmed them both. In her sleep they shared the passion that convention expected only the married to enjoy, and when she awoke the next morning she knew that her feelings for Sir Greville Seton had passed all boundaries. She loved him, and there was no going back. But was there to be any going forward? Did he really still feel the same this morning as he did last night? She would only know that when she faced him at breakfast-if she had the courage to go downstairs.
She got out of bed, and opened the curtains and shutters to gaze out on a white world. The overnight clouds had completely vanished, the sun was shining, and because it was Sunday the remains of Great East Street were devoid of workmen. Today was December 21, the midwinter solstice, but with so much light and snow it did not seem possible that it could be the shortest day of the year. The sounds of Christmas drifted from the front of the house, children's laughter as they played in the snow on the Steine, street calls announcing hand-gilded candles and seasonal wreaths, and the inevitable carol playing of the German band outside the Pavilion. It was a perfect day for Evangeline's excursion in the royal sleigh. Mrs. Fosdyke's bunion had been truly vindicated.
The door opened and closed, and ghostly footsteps came to stand next to her. "Yuletide is at hand, mistress."
"And I am only in my nightdress!" Megan replied hastily, and dashed to put on her wrap. "Please knock if you wish to come in, for I might have been completely undressed," she said as she returned to the window.
"Forgive me, lady, for I did not think."
"You certainly didn't."
"How went the ball?" he asked.
"Oh, well enough."
"Is that all thou hast to say? Shame on thee, mistress, for I saw thee at the foot of the stairs with Sir Greville," he chided.
She lowered her eyes awkwardly. "Did you?"
"Aye, and I heard what was said."
"Oh."
The specter was silent for a moment. "And that is still all thou hast to say? Forgive this old shade, mistress, but would not a joyous smile be more appropriate this morning?"
"I am afraid to hope too much, Master Witherspoon." She explained why Greville had kissed her in front of the entire ball.
"And thy fear is that he will have reconsidered?"
"Yes."
"Thou shouldst not anticipate such a calamity, sweet lady, for if I am any judge, his heart throbs for thee even as thine throbs for him."
She managed a smile. "I hope you're right, Master Witherspoon."
There was another short silence, and then he spoke again. "I have a boon to beg of thee, mistress."
"A boon? What sort of boon?" Megan inquired.
"I wish thee to coax the Lady Evangeline to visit St. Nicholas's. I fear she hath become a little lax over such things and that she usually attends another church entirely, but pray ask her all the same, mistress."
Megan was puzzled. "Why?"
"For the good of her soul, sweet lady, for the good of her soul."
Somehow Megan did not think Evangeline's soul had much to do with it. Rollo's interest in the church could only have to do with Belle Bevington, she decided, and then remembered that he had said he could only go where Evangeline went. "It's you who needs to go to the church, isn't it, sir?"
Silence. She smiled. "An eloquent response. I will do what I can
for you, but I am only Lady Evangeline's employee, and cannot make her go anywhere. And morning service will be the very last thing on her mind this morning. She will be all royal sleigh, I promise you."
"Ah, yes, the royal sleigh," the specter replied with a sigh. "I vow yon cursed contraption has become a grail to her! Nothing would suffice but Master Fosdyke be dispatched to the Marine Pavilion as soon as the sun was up." He sighed again. "Well, I have bided my time this one hundred and forty years, mistress, so I suppose a few more days will not prove my undoing. But if her ladyship could be persuaded to go to yon church before Christmas Day itself is over, I would be most obliged."
She detected a certain note in his voice. "You really mean that, don't you? It has to be done before the end of Christmas Day."
He hesitated, as if wanting to answer, but then decided against it. "I durst not to say anything more, mistress, for I have transgressed by asking this much." His steps crossed to the door, which opened and closed again, and Megan was alone once more. One hundred and forty years? She counted back mentally. That would be 1666, she thought, and recalled that all she knew of that year was that in September the great fire of London had occurred.
She remained by the window, her thoughts returning to Greville, but then she saw Evangeline picking her way through the snow toward the summerhouse. She wore a warm rose-colored cloak, and when she turned to glance back for a moment, Megan saw that she had on a royal blue gown beneath. On reaching the summerhouse, she brushed the snow from the bench then sat down and tossed back her hood. Her face looked thoughtful and withdrawn-oddly so, Megan thought, unable to help lingering by the window. Was something wrong? As she watched, Evangeline reached up to undo the gold chain around her neck, then opened the locket to gaze at what lay within. She raised it tenderly to her lips, at which point Megan drew back quickly from the window; such moments were not to be intruded upon.
Chapter 28
Evangeline's quiet mood of the summerhouse had quite lifted when she took her seat at the breakfast table, although Megan noticed that she wasn't wearing the locket. Her royal blue morning gown suited her, and the choice of such a regal color seemed singularly appropriate on a day when she would sally forth in a royal conveyance. Fosdyke had returned from the Marine Pavilion to say that the sleigh would be at her disposal from noon onward, and she was so excited that she couldn't talk about anything else. At least, this was the impression she gave, but Megan suspected she was using constant babble to gloss over any awkwardness resulting from the momentous cotillion.
Rupert's head was in the clouds this morning. Chloe had given him a good night kiss at the end of the ball, Oliver March had been trounced with a vengeance, and all was well in Lord Rupert Radcliffe's world. Greville and Megan could not have been farther from his thoughts, and the advent of the royal sleigh meant not a single jot, unless it meant that he and Chloe could enjoy a romantic and intimate drive in it. He gazed out of the window toward her house, and hummed to himself as he spooned salt into his coffee instead of over his deviled kidneys, forgot to butter his toast, remembered, spread it with strawberry jam instead, and then placed the jam spoon in the mustard pot. His eyes were dreamily happy, and his aunt's chatter went completely over his lovesick head. Greville came late to breakfast because he had been out somewhere, and he greeted everyone in a genial tone. Megan felt his eyes upon her as he took his place at the table, but she could not bring herself to look into them. She was aware of the door standing open to the hall, and the kissing bough turning slowly upon its rope. Oh, the mischief that could be wrought by mistletoe, aided and abetted by treacherous desires that had lurked in the shadows of acknowledgment, only to step into the full light of open revelation when defenses were down… At last she met his gaze. He smiled, and her foolish heart almost turned over with joy. He didn't feel differently this morning!
Evangeline suddenly tapped her cup with her spoon to draw attention. "Now, then, mes enfants, I think you should know that I have taken the liberty of sending apologies to Garsington House regarding tonight's, er, concert. Sir Jocelyn is to send a similar message, so we may all be assured of not having to face that wretched Mr. March person."
Greville caught Megan's glance, but said nothing as Evangeline went on, "To pass the time between now and noon I was going to insist upon rehearsals, but I don't think I have the patience." At this she tossed a reproachful glance at Greville, and for a moment Malvolio's cross-gartered yellow stockings seemed to shimmer above the arrangement of holly and tall slender candles newly placed in the center of the table, then she went on. "So, instead I shall busy myself with the costumes and scenery. I do not require any help from anyone, so please do not offer."
Rupert continued to stare out of the window, not having heard a single word, but Greville smiled. "Help with things theatrical? Heaven forfend," he murmured.
"Such facetiousness does not surprise me in the least," Evangeline replied tersely, "but there is time aplenty between now and Twelfth Night for you to master Malvolio." She turned to Megan. "My dear, I shall not require you this morning."
Again? Megan had begun to marvel over being employed, for the one thing Lady Evangeline Radcliffe did not seem to require was a companion! The duties required of her so far could almost have been counted on one hand. Megan's conscience pricked. "But, Lady Evangeline, are you quite sure you would not prefer me to help you with the costumes and scenery?"
"I'm absolutely certain, my dear. The morning is yours to do with as you please. Is there anything you particularly wish to do?"
"Well, I-I thought maybe I would walk to St. Nicholas's, and-" Megan was hoping to lead up to Rollo's request, but Evangeline broke in.
"Why, what a happy coincidence!"
"Coincidence?"
"Yes, because Greville mentioned last night that he is also going there this morning. Didn't you, Greville?"
"Mm? Oh, yes, I believe I did," he replied.
"Now you can go there together. You will be too late for morning service, but the walk will do you both good," Evangeline declared, and reached for a warm bread roll from the napkin-covered dish. "Just be back for midday, so that you may see the sleigh."
Megan and Greville set off shortly afterward. She wore her new cloak over her morning gown, and was glad of the honey-colored fur around her face. Her ankle boots were warm and comfortable, as was the muff Evangeline had once again insisted she borrow. He wore his braided charcoal greatcoat and top hat, and there were golden tassels on his Hessian boots. He carried a cane with which he dashed snow from some branches overhanging the Radcliffe House garden wall.
They walked apart, feeling suddenly awkward with each other, and neither of them spoke as they approached Church Street. The snow crunched pleasingly underfoot, and behind them the German band by the Marine Pavilion had been joined by choirboys singing "I Saw Three Ships," which made Christmas now very imminent indeed. Soldiers were clearing snow in front of the barracks at the foot of the hill, and the sound of shovels soon drowned the sweet music from the Steine.
Still nothing was said as they began the climb toward the church, but then Greville suddenly took Megan's hand and drew it over his arm. She glanced up at him, and saw warmth in his eyes. The air itself seemed to sing around her, and she remembered very little of the rest of the ascent to the church, just that suddenly they seemed to be outside it but could not go in because morning service was not quite over.
At last the congregation departed; then the vicar and the choir left as well. The studded door groaned on its hinges as Greville pushed it open. Inside there was the cloying smell of recently extinguished candles, and the sunlight glanced through tendrils of gently curling smoke as they began to walk slowly down the aisle. The carols that had so recently been sung still seemed to ring in the old stonework, as did memories of Christmastides long gone. Megan found herself thinking of the centuries of worshipers who had trodden these same stone flags, countless generations of Sussex folk, right back to medieval times.
> Halfway down the aisle Greville suddenly stopped, draped his top hat on the end of a pew, and took her in his arms to kiss her. Her hood fell back from her hair as they stood together, heart beating to heart, lips clinging to lips; it was a sweet stolen moment that neither of them wished to end. But at last they drew apart, and he cupped her face in his hands to look down into her soft brown eyes, so large and dark with happy emotion.
"Oh, Megan, I cannot believe that you have completely changed my existence in so short a time."
"Do you forgive me now for being a companion?" she whispered.
"Do you forgive me for being disagreeably and arrogantly prejudiced against you?"
"You know that I do."
He bent his head to brush his lips gently over hers again, then smiled at her. "I do not begin to understand why my aunt decided to employ a companion, for no lady was ever less in need of one, but I do know I'm glad with all my heart that she did."