A Magnificent Match (17 page)

Lady O’Connell waved one hand dismissively. Very much on her dignity, she said, “Tea will do well enough, I suppose! Now let us go in, for I have a great many things to say to you, Megan. And to you, Gwyneth! Digby, the door!” The butler leaped forward to open the door.

Megan and Mrs. Tyler followed her ladyship into the drawing room. The door was barely closed behind them when Lady O’Connell seized the opportunity to launch into a new tirade.

“I think you should know that I am staying out the Season,” said Megan, raising her voice to be heard over her mother’s furious squall.

Lady O’Connell was aghast. “What did you say? Why, you unconscionable girl! It is all a plot to cut up my peace! I do not know at all why you came back from Russia! I wish you had not!”

“My lady!” exclaimed Mrs. Tyler reprovingly.

“It is quite all right, Gwyneth. It is only what I expected,” said Megan. “The truth of the matter is that I came back because Princess Kirov wanted me off her hands. She took offense when I turned down eleven offers for my hand.”

“Oh, Megan,” said Mrs. Tyler, shading her eyes with one hand and sinking onto a settee.

“Eleven offers?” Lady O’Connell stared in stupefaction at her daughter. “But I do not understand. Megan, why?”

“None of them appealed to me,” said Megan on a small laugh.

“Unnatural girl!” gasped Lady O’Connell.

“I returned to England and have launched myself on a Season with every expectation of successfully contracting an offer,” said Megan calmly.

“I forbid it! I shall not allow you to wreck all my pleasure this Season. I shall not have you here in this house another hour! You are returning to Ireland this very night!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell, going to the bellpull and giving it a yank.

“You may force me from the house, Mother, but not from London, for I shall go directly to Sophronia,” said Megan.

“I shall cut off your pin money!” said Lady O’Connell.

“You may do so, of course. But Sophronia has her own independence. And I trust that I would not be a large charge on her since I am already in possession of a very adequate wardrobe,” said Megan.

“You are completely selfish and unfeeling,” complained Lady O’Connell. “Only think how it would look if you were to remain in London under Sophronia’s roof! I would be talked about by all the vulgar gossips.”

“I do sympathize, Mother,” said Megan.

“If that were true, you would instantly comply with my wishes!” said Lady O’Connell bitterly. “But instead, you have set yourself against me.”

“Well, yes, that is true,” said Megan, a smile touching her face. “But I am only following your own directive to make the most of my opportunities. I have a full calendar of commitments and I have every intention of meeting them. It would be thought very strange indeed for me to leave just now.”

“What are you talking about? You know no one! How can you have accepted any invitations?” said Lady O’Connell, at once diverted.

“Megan is speaking the truth. She brought letters of introduction with her from Russia. Princess Kirov is known in all the best circles and her credit has been of immense value. That was why Countess Lieven gave Megan vouchers to Almack’s and any number of others have already solicited her presence to their entertainments,” said Mrs. Tyler. She gave a tiny smile at Lady O’Connell’s astounded expression. “I am also in demand, my lady. It is a heady experience, indeed. We are committed for every evening for the next two months at least.”

The door opened and the butler looked in. “You rang, my lady?”

“Tea, Digby! And my smelling salts! At once, you dense man!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell, stumbling to the settee. “I am feeling very unwell. My head is pounding. I am certain that I feel a spasm coming on.”

“Perhaps you should call her maid to her, Digby,” said Megan quietly. The butler nodded and exited. Megan turned back to her mother. “I hope that you are better directly, ma’am. I think, once you have had an opportunity to adjust yourself to the notion, that you will become quite reconciled to having me here this Season.”

“Go away!” begged Lady O’Connell. “Just go away!”

“At once, ma’am,” said Megan. She and Mrs. Tyler left the drawing room. Behind them, they could hear Lady O’Connell begin to indulge in a mild fit of hysterics. As they climbed the stairs, a maid flew past them in the opposite direction with a bottle of smelling salts clutched in her hand.

“We brushed through that fairly easily, I thought,” said Megan.

“Indeed! It was not half so bad as I imagined,” agreed Mrs. Tyler.

Lady O’Connell was prostrated by the successive shocks of the night before and she kept to her bedroom all morning, rejecting even a cup of weak tea and toast with loathing.

A gentleman’s card was carried into the sitting room, where Megan was keeping company with Mrs. Tyler. It was not an unusual occurrence now for admirers to send up their cards and Megan thought nothing of it. “Thank you, Digby,” she said.

She glanced at the name on the card. Color flew into her cheeks.

Mrs. Tyler noted the phenomenon with lively curiosity. “Why, who is it, Megan?”

“It is Prince Kirov. He has come to London,” said Megan in a strangled voice. She did not seem to know what to do with the calling card, but stared at it as though she had difficulty bringing it into focus.

“But how delightful! Digby, pray show the gentleman in. He is a friend from St. Petersburg,” said Mrs. Tyler.

“No!” said Megan, turning sharply. But the butler was already retreating. She looked almost wildly at Mrs. Tyler. Her usual self-possession was nowhere in evidence. “Gwyneth, how could you? What am I to say? I don’t know what to say!”

“You will say just what you ought. I have every confidence in your good sense,” said Mrs. Tyler comfortably. She was privately delighted by Megan’s reaction. “Er—it might be best if you were to compose yourself on the settee. You do not wish to appear too eager.”

“No, no, of course not!”

Megan hastily seated herself, arranging her skirts with a slightly trembling hand. She was glad that she was wearing one of her prettiest gowns, a simple muslin day dress trimmed with knots of blue satin ribbons. Her thoughts were in a whirl, at once chaotic and strangely focused. Fear and pleasure warred within her breast. Why had Prince Kirov come to London? It could not be just because he had vowed to follow her. But what if he had? What if that was the sole reason that he had come here today? But no, he could have planned all along to come to London on business and this would be no more than a polite courtesy call.

By the time the door was opened, Megan’s nerves were stretched taut. However, she managed to school her expression so that there was no hint of her inner turmoil. When Prince Kirov strode into the room, she looked up at him and was at once struck by his appearance. He was dressed in a tailored coat and buckskins, his boots shined to a mirror finish. Megan had almost forgotten how large he was, how magnificent his physique. She offered a pleasant smile of greeting. “Your highness! This is a welcome surprise. I had not looked for you in London.”

“Had you not, Miss O’Connell?” There was a glint in Prince Kirov’s blue eyes as he raised her fingers to his lips.

Megan’s breath caught. That simple question, uttered with intimate disbelieving amusement, had put her already agitated mind into complete disarray.

Prince Kirov turned from her to greet Mrs. Tyler, leaving Megan feeling that she had been spared a second or two to recover. “Dear Mrs. Tyler! You appear delightfully English, like a fragrant, delicate rose. I salute you, ma’am.” And he did so, bussing her on both cheeks.

Mrs. Tyler emerged from the prince’s embrace, blushing and slightly disheveled. “My goodness! I had forgotten how demonstrative you Russians can be. How very gratifying, to be sure! But it will not do, your highness. You will shock all of our acquaintances if that is how you mean to go on.”

Prince Kirov snapped his fingers. “That for the stiff English proprieties! Am I to withhold a gesture of affection for my friends for fear of offending some personage I do not know and do not wish to know? I am a Kirov and I define mine own honor.”

The prince’s arrogant declaration settled Megan’s composure as nothing else could have done. “Just so, your highness. Who could argue the point?” she said, lightly teasing.

He flashed a smile at her. His blue eyes were twinkling. Prince Kirov spoke amiably to the two ladies for a few minutes, describing portions of his journey to them and also his impressions of London since he had arrived. He had particularly high praises for the park, which he declared to be delightful.

“I have already developed the habit of riding there each afternoon, for I do not like to be idle. I have been very busy, as you may imagine, in establishing myself comfortably. My maitre’d is at this moment negotiating terms for a suitable residence,” he said.

“I wish we had known earlier of your arrival, your highness. It is so disagreeable for you to be obliged to put up at a hotel,” said Mrs. Tyler. “I am positive that Lady O’Connell would have asked you to stay here if she had but known.”

Prince Kirov bowed his appreciation. “That would have taken quite an unfair advantage of her ladyship, however. Naturally I would have waited upon you sooner, but it was not convenient until today.”

“Then I am glad that we were at home when you chanced to call,” said Megan, unaccountably piqued. She had gathered the impression that he had been in London long enough to have called on them several days earlier. Perhaps he had come to England on a business matter, after all. “We might possibly have missed you otherwise, for we are not usually so quiet.”

Mrs. Tyler did not dare to turn her head, for fear of directing such a look of reproach at Megan that it could not possibly have been misinterpreted by their guest.

“I do not doubt that you have many social commitments. It was to be expected,” said Prince Kirov.

“How was dear Princess Kirov when you left? My, it seems ages ago since we were in St. Petersburg,” said Mrs. Tyler.

“Yes, it does indeed,” agreed Megan. “No doubt that is because we have been so very busy also. Did Fedor accompany you?” She ignored Mrs. Tyler’s quick reproving glance and instead smiled brightly at their guest.

Prince Kirov gravely responded. “My mother was well, though she was angry that I left her so soon after your own departure. I thank you for your inquiry, Mrs. Tyler. As for my good Fedor, I left him at the hotel today to oversee my personal affairs.” He turned to Mrs. Tyler with a winning smile. “I know that it is a forward request in England, but for the sake of the friendship forged among us in Russia, I ask your permission to speak to Miss O’Connell in privacy.”

Mrs. Tyler rose immediately from her chair. “We became such good friends while in your house that I confess to stand on ceremony now seems absurd. I am confident that I may entrust my dear Megan to you for a few moments, your highness.”

“Gwyneth!” exclaimed Megan, at once annoyed and amused. There was a shiver of anticipation, too, for she had seen a flash of deep satisfaction in Prince Kirov’s eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tyler,” said Prince Kirov, bowing over the lady’s hand before he escorted her gallantly to the door.

Mrs. Tyler directed a meaningful smile at Megan before she left the room.

Megan turned away and moved toward the pianoforte. She well knew that her companion thought a budding romance was being well-served. However, Megan was uncertain what she wanted Prince Kirov to say to her. He had uttered his undying devotion to her, but Megan hoped that she was not setting too much store by that. Yet it would be very pleasant to be told that she was indeed the reason that he had come to London.

Megan heard the door shut and then the prince’s quick step. She did not turn around but waited until she knew that he had drawn close. Megan slipped onto the pianoforte seat and began softly pressing the keys

“Allow me to turn your music, mademoiselle.” The prince’s large well-kept hand came into her view and opened the sheets.

Megan felt heat in her face. She had no need of the sheet music and she knew that he was well aware of it. The pianoforte had simply been used as a stratagem to avoid looking at him. He obviously knew it and was amused by it. Megan wanted to retain a polite constraint between them, afraid that if she did not, something that she was unprepared for might happen. “Thank you, your highness.”

“In St. Petersburg you began to call me Misha,” he said quietly.

Megan’s color heightened. So much for keeping matters on a formal footing. She had not taken into account the prince’s regrettable lack of convention. “A slip of the tongue, surely.”

“Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not.” He turned the next sheet of music. The sweet notes of the air filled the moment of silence.

“You also kissed me,” he said softly.

Megan turned swiftly on the seat, abandoning the keyboard. Her smoke-gray eyes flashed up at him. “Ungentlemanly of you, sir! You took that kiss by overcoming my resistance.”

“Oh, the conservatory! No, dear Megan, I was referring to the ice slide,” said Prince Kirov with a slight smile.

Megan’s face flamed. She quickly rose from the pianoforte and retreated from him. “Oh! I had forgotten. But that was because you caught me unawares. It was such a silly moment. The exhilaration of the sledding and—and—the moon!”

Prince Kirov caught one of her hands. He turned it over and pressed a kiss into her warm palm. “Forgotten, mademoiselle? No, not forgotten. Not by me; nor by you. I can feel the fluttering of your heart in your wrist.”

Megan snatched her hand away. She put her hands behind her back. She managed a breathless laugh. “You are nonsensical, Mikhail!”

He reached out and caressed her cheek with a feather touch. “You see? I read the mysteries of your soul in your eyes. I awakened the passion in you. It is impossible to pretend that you have turned cold toward me.”

Megan was fast losing perspective. “You go too fast for me,” she whispered.

He nodded in reluctant agreement. “Yes, you are one who deserves all the extravagances of elegant courtship.” He gave the flicker of a smile. There was a banked heat in the expression in his eyes. “Do not fear, my dove. Though you are mine to possess, I shall not rob you of that homage which every beautiful woman desires.” He possessed himself of her hands and bent to kiss her fingers in a formal salute.