A Magnificent Match (23 page)

“He is a bold, arrogant—” Words failed her and Megan shook her head.

“For my part, I was prepared to dislike him. But I have changed my mind,” said Captain O’Connell. “You have my blessing, Megan.” With that, he escorted his outraged sister into dinner.

It was not to be thought that Captain O’Connell could keep such a good joke to himself. He confided to two of his closest cronies, Lord Dorsey and Lord Haven, that he suspected that his sister was in a fair way to accepting a suit. “Prince Kirov announced himself to be as good as betrothed to her already,” he said with a laugh.

Lord Haven repeated those carelessly uttered words to a friend or two, and it swiftly became general knowledge that Prince Kirov had staked his claim to Miss O’Connell. Other suitors protested that they had as much chance as the prince. A wager was made and accepted, the betting book at White’s was called for, and the white heat of competition was born. Odds ran slightly in favor of Prince Kirov. It was argued that he possessed much in his favor, but there were a few others who were thought to stand an even chance.

Miss O’Connell appeared to be unconscious of the sharp interest that society was taking of her. She attended the routs, balls, soirees, and other functions without exhibiting a clear partiality for any one gentleman. Her seeming indifference only lent spice to the sporting atmosphere. It was all very entertaining.

There was another noteworthy source of amusement for the
ton
that Season. The ongoing feud between Mrs. O’Connell and her husband had generated both laughter and ridicule. It had quickly become apparent to everyone with eyes that Mr. O’Connell was jealous of his wife’s admirers. There were several gentlemen, and, regrettably, ladies, too, who thought it amusing to further Mr. O’Connell’s spleen. Mrs. O’Connell suddenly skyrocketed to a pinnacle of popularity. It was rare to either find her at home of an evening or without a flock of gallants crowding around her, eager to snatch her hand out from under her husband’s disjointed nose.

Megan sympathized with her brother Lionel. He found himself placed in the awkward position of wooing his own wife. It was an affront to his dignity and his pride, but it served as well as a frontal assault against his former indifference and contempt for Sophronia. That was what Megan hoped (and knew that Sophronia had also pinned all of her hopes on) would attach Lionel’s devotion in a way that he had never before experienced.

While Megan felt a small measure of pity for her brother, it did not lead her to accept his strictures upon her own life. There came a time when she was unable to avoid Mr. O’Connell’s insistence for private speech. With as much cheerfulness as she could muster, Megan sustained the interview with her brother, during which he taxed her with her unconventional behavior in returning to England without leave and of causing their mother so much concern with her activities.

“Really, Lionel, you are making a great piece of work out of nothing,” said Megan. “Mother is simply put out of countenance that she has a daughter who is enjoying the same sort of popularity that she is used to for herself.”

“She has informed me that she has actually received offers for your hand from a smattering of gentlemen that she has described as mushrooms and tufts,” said Mr. O’Connell bitingly.

“No, has she indeed?” exclaimed Megan, chuckling. “I knew that I had engendered admiration in several breasts, but I had no notion that it had blossomed into full-blown passion!”

“You choose to treat it all very lightly,” said Mr. O’Connell. “Allow me to tell you that our mother and I take a far dimmer view of your progress, Megan. I have myself observed your free and easy manners and I am appalled! You have become an accomplished flirt of the worst sort, encouraging every male within your scope, as it were.”

“Are you saying that I have crossed the mark, Lionel? For if you are, then perhaps you should direct some of your oration to Sophronia, for I have been much in her company of late! But I don’t suppose that Sophronia has accepted your scoldings any better than do I!” said Megan tartly.

Mr. O’Connell stiffened. “We will leave Sophronia’s name out of this, if you please! My object is to bring you to a sense of your failings. Heed me, Megan, for I warn you that the consequences shall be dire if you do not!”

“Lionel, you have no authority over me whatsoever. Pray do not think that you will browbeat or bully me into cowering under your thumb, for I shall not do it!” said Megan. “Now you must excuse me, for I must dress. Lady Mansfield has invited me and Mrs. Tyler to join her in her box at the theater.”

“I suppose that Kirov fellow is to be one of the party?” inquired Mr. O’Connell sharply. “I’ve seen the way that he looks at you. Pah! As for his effrontery, it passes all bounds! He has made a laughingstock of you, Megan, whether you know it or not! Why, everyone is saying that he is going around declaring that he is as good as betrothed to you!”

Megan looked at her brother, her expression perfectly still. But her smoke-gray eyes flashed. “Prince Kirov is a gentleman and of royal blood. Pray recall that when you speak of him to me!”

Mr. O’Connell flushed at his sister’s cold tone. As she swept toward the door, he called out furiously, “You are riding for a fall, Megan! Mark me if you don’t! You will regret all of this one day!”

Not every gentleman regarded Prince Kirov with such rancor. At a ball a few nights later, Sir Frederick Hawkesworth, formerly assigned to St. Petersburg in a diplomatic capacity and newly arrived in London, recognized Prince Kirov. He had been brought to the ball by his friend, Mr. Bretton. Sir Frederick at once reminded himself to the prince.

Prince Kirov expressed himself delighted to see Sir Frederick again. In fact, the prince greeted him with such a pounding on the back that Sir Frederick was staggered. “You will join a small party that I am hosting tomorrow! We are attending a balloon ascension. I will introduce you to the company of the fairest lady in all of England. You must come, too, Mr. Bretton. I have naturally included Mrs. Tyler in the party and she will be glad to see such a good friend,” said Prince Kirov.

Mr. Bretton reddened. “Thank you, your highness. I will be pleased to join you.”

“Word has it that you are paying serious court to a lady, your highness,” said Sir Frederick, quirking his brow.

Prince Kirov flashed a wide grin. “Ah, so you have already heard of Miss O’Connell! Excellent! Then you will understand when I issue a friendly warning to you, Sir Frederick.”

Sir Frederick flung up his hand. “Unnecessary, your highness! I would not dream of trespassing upon your preserve. At least, not this time.”

Prince Kirov nodded. There was a gleam in his ice-blue eyes. “You are wiser than some. Now come! I shall take you over to make your bows to Miss O’Connell and Mrs. Tyler. Then I shall make you known to some very unexceptional young ladies.”

Sir Frederick burst out laughing. He went off in the company of Prince Kirov and Mr. Bretton.

Unaware of the three gentlemen bearing down on them, Megan and Mrs. O’Connell had their heads together. They were discussing the promising attachment between Captain O’Connell and Miss Phoebe Stallcroft.

“I am glad that all misunderstanding has been smoothed away. I was afraid for a while that Phoebe would never forgive Colin for that idiotic proposal. Offering for her in order to retrieve her tarnished reputation, indeed! Was there anything more calculated than that to put Phoebe into a flame?” said Mrs. O’Connell.

“No, indeed. But I believe that it did Colin good to be turned down. He is a bit more considerate of others lately,” said Megan. “I never really thought to see Lady Stallcroft actually smile on Colin.”

“Her ladyship has been all complacency since that disastrous day when Phoebe refused Colin and he swore to make all right with her parents,” said Mrs. O’Connell. “He apologized very handsomely, too. Lord Stallcroft was quite won over.”

“But not her ladyship?” suggested Megan. “You never have told me exactly what took place, you know.”

“Oh, it was no great thing. Lord Stallcroft tentatively suggested to his spouse that to deny an upstanding and rather well-heeled young man from courting their daughter was not the wisest thing to do. I clinched the matter when I hinted that to continue to turn Colin away was generating speculations of the sort of intrigue that Lady Stallcroft most despises, which of course could ruin Phoebe’s chances altogether,” said Mrs. O’Connell with a laugh.

Megan regarded her sister-in-law with respect bordering on awe. “You didn’t, Sophronia! But what did Lady Stallcroft say then?”

Mrs. O’Connell pointed with her fan to the dance floor, where Captain O’Connell and Miss Phoebe Stallcroft were going down a country dance. “As you have seen, her ladyship bestowed her approval on Colin’s suit,” she said with satisfaction.

“That is wonderful, indeed! If only your own interests were going as smoothly,” said Megan. She put out a hand quickly when a shadow crossed her sister-in-law’s face. “Forgive me! I did not mean to say that.”

“It is quite all right. Of course you have noticed that Lionel and I continue to have our differences, and so has all of society,” said Mrs. O’Connell with a sigh. She managed a credible smile. “But I have hopes of Lionel. Lately, there has been a look in his eyes that— Well, suffice it to say that he is adjusting his previous conceptions of me!”

“I should hope so!” said Megan warmly. She knew that her brother had been thrown into a passion of jealousy over his wife’s new image. It remained to be seen whether that would be the spur that would heal the rift between Lionel and Sophronia.

“Here is Lionel now,” said Mrs. O’Connell from behind her fan. “I have given him the next waltz. Wish me luck, Megan.” She rose as Mr. O’Connell presented himself and offered his hand.

Megan watched them go, a handsome couple with troubles. She sighed, wishing that her own affairs were progressing better. She had known such success, had been the object of much admiration, and had also received a handful of offers. However, the one gentleman who could command her heart had yet to make a formal proposal. There had been hints in that direction, but it always seemed to be an inappropriate time for Prince Kirov to declare himself.

Lately, Prince Kirov appeared content simply to continue as her faithful admirer. It was rather daunting, she thought. But she kept recalling how he had said she was worthy of a magnificent courtship. Megan supposed that was what Mikhail was attempting to give her. How quickly she would dispense with it, if only he would ask her to marry him. She must have been mad to turn him away at all.

Sensing someone’s presence, Megan looked up. She colored when she met Prince Kirov’s eyes, thrown off balance by his sudden appearance just when she was thinking about him. Embarrassed, she unconsciously put her hand to her throat. “Prince Kirov! How delightful.”

Prince Kirov made an elaborate bow. His eyes gleamed in comprehension of her flustered manner. “Miss O’Connell. I am astonished to discover you sitting alone rather than dancing.”

The audacious observation steadied Megan. She flashed a brilliant smile. “Your pity is wasted, your highness, I assure you! I sit out only two sets tonight and that of my own choice.”

Prince Kirov laughed. “I do not doubt it. Miss O’Connell, allow me to introduce an old friend to you, Sir Frederick Hawkesworth. He is late of the diplomatic services, having just returned to England. He is a guest of Mr. Bretton’s, whom you know, of course.”

“Of course. Sir Frederick, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Megan. She exchanged a few pleasantries with the gentleman. Then, at Mr. Bretton’s inquiry, she said, “You will find Mrs. Tyler with Mrs. Hadcombe, Mr. Bretton.”

Mr. Bretton bowed and took his leave, going in search of Mrs. Tyler. Prince Kirov also took his leave of Megan, saying, “I promised Sir Frederick that I would make him known to Miss Stallcroft and Miss Bancroft. But after I have performed this duty, I shall return to make your sitting out of this set less tedious.”

“Thank you, your highness. That is truly noble of you,” said Megan dryly with a shake of her head. But her fine eyes smiled at him.

Keeping his promise, Prince Kirov shortly made his way back to her. But he did not sit down. Instead he held out his hand. “Will you step out on the balcony with me, Miss O’Connell? I know that you do not like the heat of a ballroom.”

“It is rather hot tonight,” agreed Megan, rising and placing her fingers upon his elbow. She and Prince Kirov walked to one of the tall windows.

Prince Kirov unlatched it and pushed it open so that he could escort her out onto the marbled balcony. Megan stepped to the stone balustrade, cupping the cool stone under her hands. Her silk shawl slipped from her shoulders. Prince Kirov caught it and placed it gently back onto her shoulders. Megan had half-turned, her face tilted. They were very still, looking into one another’s eyes, a tableau touched by moonlight.

“You are slowly driving me mad, Megan,” he muttered. He took her into his arms and kissed her. He suddenly stepped back, dropping his arms from about her. “I had not intended to do that.”

Megan laughed a little breathlessly. Her heart was pounding and she had to grasp the balustrade for balance. “You remain impulsive, Misha. But I do not dislike it.”

Prince Kirov started forward, then stopped. “I think it is time to return to the ballroom, mademoiselle. I do not trust myself alone with you any longer.”

Megan accepted his hand. She glanced up at his face as she passed by him through the door. His expression was inscrutable, but there was a warmth in his eyes that could not be hidden.

“I shall look forward to the balloon ascension tomorrow, your highness,” she said quietly, dropping her gaze. “I have always wanted to see one.”

Sir Lawrence stepped into view. “My dance, I believe,” he said, glancing at the gentleman behind Megan.

Prince Kirov bowed and walked away. Megan did not see him for the rest of the evening. She heard later that the prince had left the gathering early.

Much later, after returning home and getting ready for bed, Megan heard a knock at her bedroom door. She opened it. Mrs. Tyler stood outside in the hall, wrapped in a robe and with a pretty lace cap covering her hair. “May I come in for a moment, Megan?”