A Magnificent Match (7 page)

Megan chuckled. Her eyes danced even as she nodded in agreement. “Quite, quite true! Oh, Gwyneth, isn’t it simply splendid! We shall have a wardrobe worthy of the name and go to parties and routs and do all the things that I have positively longed to do. We shall have such fun, I just know it!”

“So I hope,” said Mrs. Tyler, still smiling. She kept to herself her private fears—her trepidation at the thought of stepping so thoroughly into the unknown and her utter conviction that Megan’s life was about to undergo a singular change, whether for better or worse, she could not yet tell. But certainly it was all worth the risk if only to enable Megan to engage in glad hopes.

Megan unconsciously voiced something of her companion’s reflections. “It is a bit frightening to think about going off somewhere, where we do not know a single person and the country might be strange to us. But I have wanted for so long to do something different, Gwyneth, that I am very ready to throw myself into any adventure!”

“Pray allow me to insert a word of caution, my dear. There are adventures and then there are adventures,” said Mrs. Tyler.

“Always the cautious chaperone, Gwyneth?” quizzed Megan.

“I trust that I shall always be cognizant of my duty,” said Mrs. Tyler gravely, but with a gleam of humor in her fine eyes. “I do not think that responsibility shall change overmuch, whether in London or in St. Petersburg. However, I hope that I am not so stuffy as to smother you with strictures and homilies and bind you about so tightly that you cannot breathe. I only ask that you preserve your good sense, my dear.”

“Never fear. I do not allow anything to undermine my rational thoughts,” said Megan cheerfully. “I have seen rather too much that passes for affection but which is not. So you need not worry. I am far too levelheaded to be taken in by some man-milliner.”

“Megan! What a turn of phrase! Man-milliner, indeed,” said Mrs. Tyler, shaking her head. Though she deplored the younger woman’s choice of words, she was comforted by them, for she knew well enough that Megan was a sensible young woman.

Megan looked around her. Slowly, she waved a fantastically painted fan in front of her face. She was standing beside a massive fluted marble column at the edge of the dance floor. The ballroom was incredibly hot, but that was characteristic of a Russian function. It was one of the things that she had had to adjust to during the months she had been in the glittering city of St. Petersburg.

“Megan, my dear sister, you do not dance?” came a light teasing voice.

Megan turned with a smile to her friend, Countess Irena Annensky. One of the things she liked best about the Russians was their warmth and their astonishing habit of addressing even near strangers as a member of their family. “No, it is too hot to dance. So I am hiding, as you see.”

“What, and not one of your admirers have sought you out?” asked Countess Annensky.

“Oh, I was found only a moment before you came up. I have sent the gallant gentleman to fetch me an ice,” said Megan. “I told him that dancing makes one very warm and that I would be ever so grateful for an ice.”

“And so he has run off very happily to execute his important errand,” concluded Countess Annensky.

Megan laughed. Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, isn’t it bad of me?”

“But you are always too warm,” said Countess Annensky. “It is your warmth that excites such devotion. The fire flickers in your eyes and your smile and draws the men to you. You are like a Russian firebird.”

Megan laughed and shook her head. Countess Irena Annensky was a budding poetess and sometimes her extravagancies of speech were rather fanciful. “You mistake. It is not my personality, but my coloring that is so admired. I am a rarity in St. Petersburg. That is the full sum of my allure.”

“Ah! But your hair is not a mere red, dear Megan. It is flickering flames of red and gold. It is no wonder that the poor moths are drawn to you,” said Countess Annensky.

Megan shook her head again. She knew that her flaming tresses, pale skin, and smoke-gray eyes had excited immediate notice from the moment of her arrival in St. Petersburg and she still marveled at it. “At home in Ireland, I am considered to be very ordinary.”

“Impossible!” stated Countess Annensky firmly. “You are beautiful. Everyone says so. You have turned down eleven proposals of marriage and almost had a duel fought over you. That is not ordinary.”

“You have forgotten the Turkish pasha who wished to add me to his harem,” reminded Megan with a quiver of laughter in her voice.

“Yes! And all of this in six months. It is enough to rouse envy in the breasts of even your closest friends,” said Countess Annensky with a huge sigh and a sidelong look.

Megan laughed. “Yes, I perceive how much you envy me the Turkish pasha.”

Countess Annensky giggled. “Well, perhaps not. But there is that nice baron—”

“Too old,” said Megan.

“And that very handsome captain—”

“Too young,” said Megan, shaking her head.

“Or that Italian count—”

“Too married,” said Megan.

Countess Annensky stared at her. “No!”

Megan nodded. “All too true. I had it from Madame Riasanovsky, who had it from her maid, who was told it by the count’s driver. The count has a wife and five children at home in Italy.”

“No!” gasped Countess Annensky, greatly entertained. She shook her head. “Poor Megan. You have been cruelly disillusioned, have you not? The count makes such perfect love to one’s fingers, kissing each tip with such reverence. Such a heartless philanderer!”

Megan shook her head in a mournful manner, though her smoke-gray eyes danced. “I am utterly cast down, I assure you. I have completely lost my trust in all the gentlemen.”

“You trusted none of them from the beginning,” said Countess Annensky shrewdly.

Megan’s mouth curved in a smile. “Perhaps not, indeed.”

The countess shook her head. “You are all fire and grace, Megan, yet you have such a coolness of head. Have none of the gentlemen touched your heart?”

“I tell no secrets, Irena,” said Megan lightly. “There are too many ears to overhear. I prefer to keep my own counsel on such private matters.”

“Yes, perhaps that is wisest,” said Countess Annensky with another sidelong glance. “Princess Kirov makes no secret that she will be very happy to see your hand contracted in marriage before the spring comes.”

“Princess Kirov has taken her role of matchmaker in too serious a vein,” said Megan with a smile and a small shrug. “The princess knew of my mother’s hopes for me when she invited me to come to St. Petersburg. I am proving to be a sad disappointment to her highness.”

“Do you dare to go counter to your mother’s and the princess’ wishes?” asked Countess Annensky curiously.

“I shall not marry until it is my decision,” said Megan quietly.

Countess Annensky shook her head. “I could not be so brave. I shiver at the thought of defying my father. No doubt he would beat me very hard.”

“But you have no need to defy your father, for he has contracted your hand to the very gentleman that you like the best,” said Megan.

Countess Annensky blushed and dimpled. “Yes, Prince Sergei suits me very well,” she agreed demurely.

“Fortunate, indeed, for it saves your back,” said Megan.

Countess Annensky trilled laughter. “No, no, my father is too fond of me! He would not beat me at all. That is for crude men, not great brown bears like my father. They growl more than they bite.”

“I have seen many Russian bears and also many others from other countries. I have been wooed and made the object of wonderful flatteries. It is enough to turn a country girl’s head,” said Megan.

“But not yours,” said Countess Annensky.

“No, not mine,” agreed Megan. Flashing a smile, she exclaimed, “I have had a perfectly grand time. I am so glad that I came to St. Petersburg.”

“I shall miss you when you return to your country,” said Countess Annensky, giving the other young woman an impulsive hug.

“I am not gone yet,” said Megan, laughing.

“But when the spring comes, you will leave us,” said Countess Annensky positively. “It is a sad thing, and so I shall not think on it anymore. Ah! Here is Prince Vladimir with your ice.”

“Thank you, your highness,” said Megan, accepting the ice. “You are too good.”

The youthful royalty blushed. He made an elegant bow and embarked on a tangled compliment, which Megan received with smiling good humor. Countess Annensky, standing to one side out of the prince’s vision, rolled her eyes.

Prince Vladimir ended by requesting the honor of partnering Megan in the next set.

“I regret, your highness, but my hand is already claimed for the waltz,” said Megan gently.

The youth’s face fell. Even his extravagant mustache seemed to droop. He bowed again. “Naturally it is to be expected. There is not a gentleman here who does not recognize your worth, mademoiselle.”

“You see, Megan? What did I tell you? The moths flutter and their poor wings are singed,” murmured Countess Annensky.

“Enough, Irena,” said Megan, giving a gurgling laugh.

Prince Vladimir looked from one lady to another. In French, he said, “Pardon, but I do not understand.”

Megan had long ago gotten over her initial surprise that French was spoken as often as the native Russian language in St. Petersburg. She shook her head. “It was nothing, your highness. Prince Vladimir, I hope that I may impose on you yet again.” She was finished with the ice and set the glass down beside the column.

“Anything! But ask!” exclaimed Prince Vladimir ardently.

“Dare we request your safe escort through this crowd? I have left my dance program on my seat and I should like to retrieve it. You see, I believe that I have a country dance open, if that is agreeable to your highness,” said Megan.

Prince Vladimir flushed with pleasure. Pushing out his chest, he said expansively, “You may rely upon me, mademoiselles.” Offering an elbow to each lady, he slowly promenaded with them across the floor. He looked right and left, nodding regally to any of his acquaintances who were privileged to witness his elevated task.

One of Countess Annensky’s acquaintances stopped their progress. After a few words among them all, the countess agreed to her friend’s entreaty that she lift his boredom and join him for refreshments. With a laugh and a wave of her hand, she left Megan and Prince Vladimir. “I shall speak to you again!” she called.

Prince Vladimir brought Megan to her chair with a flourishing bow. He pressed a kiss against her gloved hand. “I thank you for the honor bestowed upon me, mademoiselle. I shall anticipate our dance together with a passionate longing.”

A tall English gentleman sauntered up and presented himself. “It is our waltz, I believe, Miss O’Connell?”

Prince Vladimir straightened to his full height. He leveled a smoldering stare on the intruder. His mustache bristled with possessive outrage.

Megan rose hastily. “Indeed it is, Lord George.” She turned with a smile to Prince Vladimir. “I also shall look forward to our dance, your highness.”

Mollified, Prince Vladimir bowed. Before he stepped back, however, he turned a burning glance on the Englishman who was appropriating the object of his desires.

As Lord George led Megan onto the floor, he remarked, “Puppy. I thought for a moment that the boy might actually bite me.”

“Truthfully, I felt much like a juicy bone in contest,” admitted Megan.

Lord George barked a laugh. “That is good, ‘pon my soul!”

“The prince is actually quite well-meaning and sweet,” said Megan hastily.

“I am quite sure of it. He wants a little sense, of course. You are a bit too sophisticated for such a youngster as that. Now I am a different matter altogether,” said Lord George, wiggling his brows meaningfully.

Megan laughed and shook her head. “We have been down this path before, my lord. And my answer is still the same. We would not suit. Friends we have become and friends we shall remain!”

Lord George heaved a tremendous sigh. “I am thrown down to the pit of despair. I am up to my neck in miry clay. I am a vessel cast adrift upon an unfriendly sea.”

“My lord, how can this be? I have it on very good authority that you have formed a somewhat scandalous connection with a certain pretty widow,” said Megan. “Surely Madame Lanochet is not the French version of a fishwife!”

“No, of course not! I say, where did you hear about—” Lord George broke off. He bent a reproving gaze on his partner. “Miss O’Connell, you have betrayed a knowledge that is quite beneath your notice. I am shocked, to say the least. Yes, and what’s more, I am piqued that you are laughing at me. I am utterly sincere in everything that I have said.”

Megan laughed in earnest. Shaking her head, “Dear Lord George, if I were to believe half of the farragoes that have been whispered in my ears over these past months, I would have gained a reputation for being a goosecap. And justly, too.”

“Yes, you have never lacked for admiration, have you?” Lord George regarded her amused expression speculatively. “One wonders what goes on in that head of yours, Miss O’Connell. I could swear that your heart is as vulnerable as any other lady’s, but you have not succumbed to any of our overtures.”

“Not yet, in any event,” said Megan cheerfully. “I am having such a wonderful time, you see. I cannot conceive of bursting my bubble with a betrothal. Such a hindrance, don’t you think?”

Lord George shouted with laughter. “Upon reflection, Miss O’Connell, I do not believe that I am the man to win you. There is a better man in the wings than my poor self, one who will know just how to handle the ribbons.”

“So I should hope,” retorted Megan. “From what I have gathered, you made a poor showing for England last week in the sledding race.”

“I am not used to a three-in-hand. Half-broken brutes and hard-mouthed to boot,” said Lord George, defending himself.

“And there was the snow, too,” said Megan, twinkling up at him.

Lord George nodded, very much on his dignity. “Besides, I have never driven over such slick ice in my life. Sleds are different from carriages, you know. They fly. I swear it! But I shall have my revenge in England. Both Count Juarasky and Don Sevilles y Perez have pledged themselves to me for the summer. I shall show them what it is to drive to an inch!”