A Magnificent Match (8 page)

“I am sure of it, my lord. England’s honor must be upheld at all costs,” said Megan. “I trust that you are prepared to do so?”

“With my life,” declared Lord George dramatically.

There was much more such lighthearted nonsense until the set was over. Lord George escorted Megan back toward her chair. “There is a rumor that you will be returning to England in the spring,” he said abruptly.

Megan looked up at him in surprise. “How did that get about?”

Lord George shrugged. “Someone had it from Countess Annensky and I had it from someone else. If it is true, I shall miss you. You have been like a breath of fresh air this winter.”

Megan felt her face warming. “That is very kind of you, my lord. I don’t know my plans, actually. It depends upon Princess Kirov more than anything, I suppose. There was no set date for my departure.”

“Speaking of the house of Kirov, here is the prince himself,” said Lord George. Looking up into the Russian’s handsome face, his own face broadened into a grin as he put out his hand. “Misha, you bear! Will you join me at the crossroads inn? I am leaving shortly with a party of roisterers that begs the honor of your company.”

“We shall see. I am committed to wait upon the pleasure of Miss O’Connell and my mother, and the ball does not end until the morning,” said Prince Mikhail Sergei Alexsander Kirov, a friendly expression lightening his ice-blue eyes.

“Oh, is that how it is? Dull duty, indeed. Well, I shall be off, then,” said Lord George. He bowed to Megan, nodded to the prince, and left them.

Prince Kirov held out his hand commandingly. “Come, mademoiselle. I wish to show you the conservatory. There is a striking lily in bloom which reminds me of your extravagant beauty.”

Megan opened her fan and set it in languid motion. “I am sorry, your highness. But I have made it a rule that I am never seen going off alone with any gentleman.”

“I am not any gentleman. I am your devoted host. There can be no objection,” said Prince Kirov with a glinting smile. His was a very charming smile, one that more often than not set female hearts fluttering and overrode gentle scruples. However, this once it failed in its objective.

“On the contrary, your highness. Mrs. Tyler is very strict in her views of propriety. She guards my reputation with intense fervor,” said Megan.

“Indeed! And where is Mrs. Tyler now, Miss O’Connell?” asked Prince Kirov, making a show of his disbelief. “Surely in the eyes of such a strict guardian, it must even be beyond the line for you to acknowledge a gentleman’s address without a chaperone within sight.”

“Mrs. Tyler has us in her sights even now, your highness,” said Megan demurely. She raised her fan slightly to point toward a small knot of ladies seated a short distance away.

Prince Kirov looked around quickly. Mrs. Tyler, mistaking Megan’s gesture, waved back in a friendly way. He bowed, then turned again to Megan. “You have reminded me of my duty, mademoiselle. Naturally you are correct. It would not be seemly for you to leave the ballroom alone with me as your only escort. I shall immediately bring together a few friends so that we may all go to the conservatory and enjoy the lilies.”

Megan started to laugh. “But how absurd! You should not order things tailored so exactly to your whims.”

“Why should I not? How am I to take you to the conservatory otherwise?” inquired Prince Kirov in a reasonable way. He sat down beside her, half-turning in his chair so that he could observe her face.

“The conservatory must wait, your highness. I still have a very full dance card,” said Megan, proffering it for his inspection. “It would be exceedingly rude of me to disappoint my admirers.”

“I shall admit to it, for my name appears on that card as well,” said Prince Kirov. He smiled and shrugged. “It is a pity that we are constrained by convention and by duty from what we most desire to do. But I am a Kirov. I have been raised to a full awareness of my duty to family and country. I shall not shirk either, even for the glimpse of a prized lily.”

“What of those things that are of equal importance as duty, your highness?” asked Megan curiously.

“Ah, you speak of the heart. Once I believed that my duty was always to be placed above matters of the heart. I have learned that sometimes that is not entirely true,” said Prince Kirov. He regarded her with lazy interest. “What of your own ideals. Miss O’Connell? Do you pay heed to the voice of duty or to the whisperings of your heart? Would you throw over all of this”—he made a sweeping gesture around at the glittering bejeweled crowd, then placed his hand against his chest—”in order to satisfy the yearnings of this?”

Megan shook her head. “I do not know. You ask me something of which I have no experience.”

“I have had such experience, dear sister.” Prince Kirov smiled again, but as though he was looking back over a particular memory. “It is a felicitous thing indeed when one’s heartfelt inclinations come into alignment with one’s duty.”

“I know little to nothing of such difficult choices,” said Megan. She was made vaguely uncomfortable by the prince’s unusual descent into sober rumination. “However, I do know that our time together grows short, your highness. Here is Prince Vladimir to claim his set with me.”

“I shall send him away,” said Prince Kirov, his brows lowering as he glanced at the approaching young gentleman.

Megan laid her hand quickly on his arm. “No, pray do not. He is but a youth, easily cast down. I do not wish him disappointed on my account, for I promised the country set to him.”

Prince Kirov smiled. He covered her hand with his own, warming her fingers through the thin fabric of her glove. “Your heart is soft, mademoiselle. Very well. We shall deal gently with Vladimir. I have known him since his cradle. Perhaps he will grow into a man someday, though I have heard his father often despair of it!”

Megan was grateful that Prince Kirov’s statement was uttered in a low tone and so was not heard by the young gentleman. Unobtrusively she slipped free of Prince Kirov’s handclasp. She smiled at Prince Vladimir, holding out her hand to him. “You are prompt, your highness. The set is not yet begun.”

“How could I be otherwise when I shall lead out the most beautiful woman in the room?” exclaimed Prince Vladimir, bowing over her fingers.

“Perhaps there is yet hope,” murmured Prince Kirov.

“Pardon, Mikhail? Did you address me?” asked Prince Vladimir.

“No, no, I was but contemplating a thing of astonishment that I must tell to an acquaintance of mine,” said Prince Kirov.

Megan did not glance at him, afraid that if she did she might laugh. “There is the music striking up now, Prince Vladimir! We must not tarry. Prince Kirov, I shall undoubtedly speak to you later in the evening.”

Megan saw Prince Vladimir slide a triumphant glance at Prince Kirov as he led her off. He obviously thought he had snatched her from under the nose of one of St. Petersburg’s most respected and eligible parties. Men could be so foolish, she thought as the dancing began.

A week later, Megan was summoned to an audience with her hostess. She knew that it was for a matter of some portent since Princess Kirov, though kindly disposed toward her, was an awe-inspiring personage who did not indulge in comfortable cozes.

“I shall be down directly,” said Megan to the servant who had relayed the message. The servant bowed and effaced himself from the sitting room. When he had exited, Megan turned to her companion. “Well, Gwyneth, what do you think?”

“Her highness does not dally in incidentals,” said Mrs. Tyler, confirming Megan’s own thoughts. “Obviously Princess Kirov has news of a serious nature to impart to you. It struck me at once that I was not included in this summons. Perhaps she has had word from Lady O’Connell? Though I cannot imagine what her ladyship might have written that would evolve into a private audience.”

“Yes, Princess Kirov has always shown you a particular respect,” said Megan with a small frown. “It is odd, indeed.”

“You would do well not to keep the princess waiting too long,” suggested Mrs. Tyler. “Hers is a formidable personality. We are both aware how thoroughly she despises tardiness in any member of her household.”

Megan chuckled ruefully. “Quite true! I ran foul of her displeasure less than a fortnight ago when I returned from shopping with Irena. Her frown did not lift until we had each offered an abject apology.” She rose from her chair and started across the thick Persian carpets toward the door, remarking, as she exited, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Princess Kirov has called me to inform me that my efforts to acquire an Orlov or Kabardian have been successful?”

“Lord O’Connell would be very well pleased by that, certainly. Perhaps that is what it is all about,” said Mrs. Tyler hopefully.

Megan traversed the marble-tiled, magnificently ornate halls to Princess Kirov’s private apartments. She was expected and therefore ushered at once into her hostess’s august presence.

Megan curtsied. “You wished to speak with me, your highness?”

Princess Kirov was enjoying a cup of extremely hot tea from the samovar, the ubiquitous wood-burning appliance that was to be found in every room of the house. She motioned for Megan to join her. “Ah, Megan! Thank you for being so prompt. You will take tea with me?”

“Of course, your highness.”

Princess Kirov snapped her fingers at a servant to pour another cup of the heavily sweetened brew. When Megan had sat down and had been served. Princess Kirov said, “My dear Megan, I have requested you to visit with me because I have been giving much reflection to your situation. In a few months the snow and ice of winter will begin to warm and our roads will become impassable mires and pits. You will be unable to travel except with the greatest difficulty. Therefore I judge that it is nearly time for you to return to your homeland.”

“I shall regret the necessity of leaving St. Petersburg, your highness,” said Megan with sincerity.

Princess Kirov gave a thin smile. There was approval in her dark eyes. “You are gracious, Megan. I, too, shall have cause to regret our parting. But perhaps it need not be so.”

“How do you mean, ma’am?” asked Megan, wondering if the princess meant to ask her to remain with her through another winter. These things were not unheard of in Russia, where the daughters and sons of minor European nobility were often made to feel themselves to be extensions of a Russian family.

If that was in Princess Kirov’s mind, it would mean that Megan would not return to her homeland for a total of two years. She did not know how she felt about that. On the one hand, it would be very pleasant to stay where she was a highly regarded guest. Yet it was not the same as waking up in one’s own bed of a morning. And then there was Mrs. Tyler to think of, as well as Simpkins. Megan thought that it would scarcely be fair to make such a far-reaching decision without first consulting their wishes, if such a decision was to be asked of her.

“In her letter, your mother, Lady O’Connell, confided to me her hopes for you when she gave her consent for you to come to Russia to stay with me,” said Princess Kirov. “Did you know this?”

“Yes, your highness, I knew it. My mother discussed it with me before I left Ireland. And I am truly grateful for your generous hospitality and your efforts on my behalf,” said Megan. “I do not believe that I could have met such a cosmopolitan set of gentlemen in any other capital.”

“That is true. St. Petersburg is the richest, most glittering capital in all the world,” said Princess Kirov matter-of-factly, certain in her arrogance of that truth. “But now we speak not of St. Petersburg, but of you, Megan. I would like you to remain in Russia, for I consider you almost like one of my own nieces. There is a way to possibly accomplish this purpose.”

“Yes, your highness?”

“I do not wish to disappoint my dear friend Lady O’Connell,” said Princess Kirov. “There have been several unexceptional offers made for your hand. Among them have been a number of good Russians. I wish you to consider well and decide which one you will accept.”

“I have considered, ma’am. I shall accept none of them,” said Megan quietly.

Princess Kirov’s request had come unexpectedly, but it was not entirely a surprise. After all, Lady O’Connell had expressed her desire that her daughter make an alliance. With a gleam of humor as she thought swiftly of all of her suitors, Megan added, “It is no doubt because they
are
all so unexceptional.”

“Nonsense. Of course you will accept one of these flattering offers. It is your clear duty, my child,” said Princess Kirov. Her dark slanting eyes held a determined expression.

“I beg to differ with you, ma’am. My duty is to accept that which is most beneficial to myself and my future, and none of these offers are acceptable in that sense,” said Megan. She saw that Princess Kirov was very perturbed and she smiled. “I apologize, ma’am. It is not my intent to anger you. However, in this matter I must speak my honest thoughts. I do not love any of these obliging gentlemen and—”

“Love!” Princess Kirov threw up her hands. “It is all one hears from the young. Even my Misha begins to prate of wedding for love. It is all nonsense!”

“You surprise me, ma’am,” said Megan, recalling her conversation with the prince. “I had thought Prince Kirov too well-trained in the discharge of his duty to the Kirov family interests to consider an emotion such as love of any true importance.”

“My son is a man of grand passion. Like all such men, there are times that he foolishly succumbs to it. But an ideal such as love is not practical, as Misha also knows,” said Princess Kirov dismissively.

“Whereas I do not believe that such an ideal is impractical,” said Megan.

“Megan, you must set aside this notion that love is of such importance,” said Princess Kirov. “Look instead at what a man will give you: position, riches, a respected name. These are what are secure and important to a woman, for her and any children to come.”

“But what of happiness, ma’am? Is that not important?” Megan asked curiously.

Princess Kirov shrugged. “Happiness is what you make of it. If it is love you want, attach a good lover. If it is style, then patronize a good modiste.”