A Magnificent Match (4 page)

The dresser gave a dour smile. She closed her sewing box. “A rare oddity I would look wearing something so akin to a bridal gown, miss.”

Megan was startled. She whirled around to look again at her reflection. “Oh my word! All it requires is a lace veil and a bouquet. Gwyneth, I cannot possibly appear in this!”

“Nonsense, my dear. You look perfectly lovely. It is quite suitable for a young lady just coming out. And I have just the thing for you to wear with it for this particular occasion,” said Mrs. Tyler. She unclasped the strand of pearls from around her own neck and held them out. “You will do me the honor of wearing them, Megan.”

Megan felt tears come to her eyes. She accepted the pearls and allowed her maid to clasp them about her neck. “Oh, Gwyneth, I am beginning to feel like Cinderella about to go to the ball.”

“A pity that there is not a Prince Charming waiting in the wings,” said Mrs. Tyler regretfully. “Certainly you will turn heads tonight, my dear.”

Simpkins allowed herself a small smile and let herself out of the bedroom. The dresser’s formidable presence gone, the maid reasserted herself. “Now, miss, stand still so that I may fix your hair.”

When Megan descended the stairs a quarter hour later, she felt herself to be almost floating. She knew that she had never appeared better. How odd that it should happen when she was wearing a discarded ballgown and a set of borrowed pearls.

She met her brother-in-law, the Honorable Patrick Kennehessey, on the landing. He looked at her appreciatively and then bowed with a flourish. “Ah, a fine-looking lass you are, to be sure,” he said in a lilting brogue. He offered his arm. “Will you honor this poor soul with your company, Megan?”

Megan looked at him wonderingly, even as she placed her fingers on his arm. “Come, Patrick, what is this blarney? I have never heard you utter such an extravagance in all my life.”

Mr. Kennehessey smiled, his broad pleasant face creasing. “But then, why should you? We rarely have occasion for private speech. I must say that I have never seen you appear to such rare advantage, dear sister. Why, at this moment you almost rival my heart, Celeste, in beauty.”

Megan began to realize just what it was about the short placid gentleman that had so charmed her sister. She had been in England visiting her maternal relations when the romance between Patrick Kennehessey and her sister had sprung up. By the time she had returned, they had already eloped and become pariahs in her father’s view. Concourse between the two households had been forbidden by Lord O’Connell for nearly two years, until he had relented upon discovering that his despised son-in-law could put him in the way of a valuable business connection. Megan had thus never had an opportunity to mingle with her brother-in-law except in such social situations as they were now preparing to attend and Mr. Kennehessey’s unprecedented compliment was astonishing. “Where is Celeste, by the by? She is not ill again, I hope?”

A shadow crossed Mr. Kennehessey’s freckled face. He nodded. “Aye, and a pity it is. His lordship will not care for it, but I told Celeste that I’ll not be endangering any child of ours for the sake of any number of horses. I have told Celeste that she is to stay abed this evening. She fretted, of course. But I shall deal with Lord O’Connell myself.”

“You are braver than I, Patrick,” said Megan quietly. “I was too cowardly to remain abovestairs, even though the circumstances of an hour past seemed to warrant it.”

He glanced sideways at her from out of unexpectedly shrewd brown eyes. “Courage is an odd thing, Megan. It is particularly roused when one perceives a threat to those one loves best. You have not yet experienced that.”

Megan looked at her brother-in-law for a long moment. “Patrick, you have not once mentioned your crops to me.”

Her brother-in-law winked at her. “No, I am saving that delicious subject for the drawing room. You have no notion, lass, how easily one may drive away unwelcome conversation with a dash of agricultural jargon.”

“You are a hoodwinking rogue, Patrick!” exclaimed Megan, almost disbelieving.

“Am I, now? Or am I merely countering one sort of towering dogma with another? Certainly I am never constrained to bear with a conversation about horseflesh longer than I wish,” murmured Mr. Kennehessey as they crossed the threshold.

The large drawing room was full. Every chair and settee was occupied, generally by finely gowned ladies of various ages. The gentlemen lounged about, either paying court to ladies of their choice or going to stand with the group arranged before the mantel, their backs to the warm fire. The buzz of conversation slowed as heads turned to see who else was joining the company.

Raising his voice, Mr. Kennehessey said, as though continuing a long digression, “And the drainage ditches cannot be any narrower for that reason. There are exceptions, of course. There is—”

Megan’s stunned expression was attributed to extreme boredom. Several individuals smiled, already well acquainted with Mr. Kennehessey’s propensity to agriculture.

Captain O’Connell stepped forward to rescue his sister. “Patrick, your servant. Megan, I should like a word with you, if I may.”

“Of course.” Megan turned her head to say a civil word to her brother-in-law, but Mr. Kennehessey was already bowing and moving away.

“Regular jaw-me-dead, isn’t he?” said Captain O’Connell, grimacing.

Megan shook her head, smiling. She wished that she could reveal their brother-in-law’s astounding subterfuge, but he had not granted her permission to do that. “Patrick is a good, worthy man,” she said.

“Oh, that goes without saying,” said Captain O’Connell dismissively. “Let us forget him, if you please. What is this our mother has so graciously conveyed to me not two minutes before you chose to make your entrance? That I am to escort you to London to the modiste shops?”

Megan laughed. “Oh, poor Colin! It is not nearly so bad as that. I am going on a shopping trip, but I shall have Mrs. Tyler with me. You are merely to accompany us to the town house. Your duty shall end there.”

“You ease my mind, dear sister,” said Captain O’Connell. The rather hard glint in his eyes receded. “I was of no mind to trail behind a female while she bought a few fripperies and gloves.”

“You need not fear. I would never infringe upon your good nature in such a self-centered fashion,” said Megan evenly. “In any event, you would not allow me to do so, would you?”

Captain O’Connell smiled slowly. He regarded her expression thoughtfully. “I believe that I have angered you, Megan.”

Megan also smiled. Her gaze was very steady, though there was a spark in the depths of her eyes. “No, why should I be? I cannot expect you to put yourself about for me. It would be the height of idiocy to think that, would it not?” She did not want to skirmish with her brother and looked about for an excuse to leave him. “Oh, there is Sophronia waving at me. Why does she need to bring those pugs along with her even tonight?”

“Look at Lionel’s face for the answer to your question,” said Captain O’Connell, nodding his head toward their elder brother.

Mr. O’Connell had attired himself carefully for the evening in a dark coat, frilled shirt and waistcoat, and pantaloons. His was a handsome figure, the only mar to his correct appearance being his expression. He was frowning as he stared across the room at his wife. Quite deliberately, he turned his back and began speaking to a guest.

“The cut direct,” observed Captain O’Connell.

“That was very bad of Lionel,” said Megan, annoyed. “That must certainly set a few tongues wagging. And I can well imagine Sophronia’s feelings!”

“Do not get up in arms over it, dear sister. I doubt that Sophronia even noticed,” said Captain O’Connell sardonically. “She fawns so over those pooches that one might be excused for thinking they were her children.”

“Perhaps they are,” said Megan quietly. “Excuse me, Colin. She is still waving at me. I think that I shall go over and just drop a word into her ear.”

Captain O’Connell smiled slightly. “I suspect it will be more likely that Sophronia will drop a few words into your ear, Megan. You will hear in gruesome detail about every ill that she is suffering. I know, for I have already made the pilgrimage to greet her. Lord, what a ninnyhammer!”

Megan shook her head at him before she began to make her way through the crowd. She patiently nodded and smiled as she greeted those whom she already knew. It was several minutes before she was able to reach her sister-in-law’s side.

Sophronia O’Connell was a passably pretty young woman, but there was a perpetual petulant droop to her mouth that marred her natural loveliness. She affected a languid air and always had several shawls dripping from her shoulders. That, and her constant canine companions, defined her singular style.

One of the pair of pugs cavorting at her sister-in-law’s feet dared to leap up at Megan. She caught its head with her gloved hand and deflected the animal away from her silken skirt. “Down, sir!”

The pug groveled, its tail wagging. Megan bent to scratch its ears. She looked up at her sister-in-law, who sat on her chair slowly waving a fan, quite unconcerned over her pet’s antics. “Really, Sophronia, must you bring them into the ballroom?”

Sophronia O’Connell adjusted her shawls. “They amuse me. Pray do not scold, Megan, for it is so tiresome. I am scarcely able to endure this squeeze and it would be utterly impossible without my dear doggies.”

“Very well, Sophronia, I shan’t scold. I think that you know my opinion. But how you intend to take to the dance floor with those animals nipping at your heels is more than I can fathom,” said Megan, rising to her feet.

“I do not dance,” said Mrs. O’Connell disdainfully. “My fragile health will not permit such exuberant exercise.”

“I hope that you did not wave at me so urgently in order to discuss your pugs or the state of your health, Sophronia. For if you have, I tell you to your face that I am leaving on the instant,” said Megan frankly.

“So unfeeling, every one of you,” murmured Mrs. O’Connell, rearranging a shawl that one of her pugs had tugged down off of her slender shoulder. A flash of sudden temper showed in her eyes. “But you may rest easy this once, Megan. I do not intend to bore you with a cataloging of my ills.”

“Thank you, Sophronia,” said Megan.

Her sister-in-law chose to ignore what she considered to be an impertinence. “I merely wished to verify what I was told. Are you going up to London with Colin? If that is indeed true, I advise you strongly against it. Colin may be a gentleman born, but he is scarcely the proper person to introduce you to society. I doubt that he knows a single respectable person.”

“Colin is merely providing a convenient escort, Sophronia. I am actually traveling over with Mrs. Tyler,” said Megan. “She has been charged to advise me in buying a few essentials and—”

“A shopping expedition?” Mrs. O’Connell’s blue eyes narrowed. Her voice sharpened. “I have not been informed of this. I suppose that it never occurred to anyone to wonder whether I should like to shop in London? I shall speak to Lionel at once!”

Megan instantly recognized the danger of her sister-in-law’s envy. Not wanting to be the cause of an unwarranted and public wrangle, she said hastily. “It is not precisely a pleasure expedition, Sophronia. Mrs. Tyler and I shall not be remaining in London. We are going on to St. Petersburg. That is quite a different thing, as you will agree.”

“St. Petersburg?” repeated Mrs. O’Connell blankly.

“It is in Russia,” said Megan helpfully.

“I know very well where St. Petersburg is,” said Mrs. O’Connell irritably. “I am not an idiot. However, I fail to understand why you are going there at all. Whatever can you be thinking? St. Petersburg is for all intents and purposes on the other side of the world! And how will you go on? Though an estimable woman, Mrs. Tyler is certainly not an entree into Russian society! Not that I’d care for that, in any event, for I understand that they are a barbaric people.”

“My mother received an invitation for me from a friend, Princess Elizaveta Kirov. The princess has offered to introduce me into Russian society,” said Megan.

Mrs. O’Connell’s gaze was arrested. She stared at Megan for a long moment, before a small smile touched her lips. “I see. Of course. My dear mother-in-law has always got one’s interests so close to heart. Well, Megan, I do not say that I envy you. But I do wish you well.”

Megan was surprised by her sister-in-law’s well-wishing. “Thank you, Sophronia. It is kind of you to say so.”

Mrs. O’Connell shrugged. “Not at all, Megan. Of all of the O’Connells, I find you least objectionable. It is a pity that you are to be shunted off in this paltry fashion, but I imagine that even St. Petersburg must offer more than what you would have if you remained here. Certainly you cannot expect a London Season.” Her eyes wandered to her husband’s stocky form and her mouth drooped in a pathetic expression.

Megan noticed. Impulsively, she said, “Sophronia, if you are so unhappy, why do you not simply leave? Why Bath? Why not London? You were used to be such a happy creature. Perhaps a change of scenery, a new existence with routs and balls and picnics and admirers would—” She brought herself up short. Her sister-in-law was staring at her in shocked incomprehension. “Forgive me, Sophronia. I am speaking out of turn. I see Lady Mansfield. I should go over and greet her.”

Megan rose and quickly made her escape. She could not understand how she had come to speak so bluntly to her sister-in-law. Intimacies were not encouraged in the O’Connell household. One did not intrude upon another’s private affairs, for it was an understood thing that to do so constituted a breach of the rigid propriety that was to be observed.

After a few minutes of easy conversation with the guests, most of whom were well-known to Megan from past years, she was summoned by her father with a crook of his finger. Obediently Megan crossed over to him. “Yes, Father?”

Lord O’Connell stared at her from under beetled black brows. His mane of hair was grizzled with silver and his figure, though thickened, was still that of an athletic gentleman. “Lionel informs me that you took the gelding over the Patterson fences during my absence.”