by Gayle Buck
“Damnation!” he muttered under his breath.
Captain O’Connell frowned as he watched his sister’s progress. Megan was laughing and flirting in what he considered to be a manner just short of shameful. She had a coterie of gentlemen surrounding her again, but at least that bounder was not one of them at the moment.
It was odd, he thought. Why had he never realized before just how beautiful his sister was? Megan had an alluring quality that he had never noticed until he had come across her quite by accident here in London. He had been surprised to see her because he had quite understood that she was situated in St. Petersburg indefinitely.
Perhaps that short sojourn in Russia was what had made the difference, Captain O’Connell reflected. Why, Megan had positively blossomed into a woman of the world in only a few months. She was confident, beautiful, and apparently irresistible to the London ton. Something must have happened while Megan was residing with Princess Kirov. Something so completely overwhelming that overnight she had become this alarming diamond of the first water.
Captain O’Connell had been idly watching the activity around his sister when his gaze abruptly sharpened. He watched the immensely tall Russian forge a path through the other gentlemen. He observed the faintest hint of hesitation in his sister’s manner, the tinge of color that rose in her face, as Prince Kirov bowed over her hand, soliciting her for the waltz.
Captain O’Connell’s lips thinned. He thought that he had discovered a piece of the puzzle and it was not a pleasant possibility. Megan would naturally deny anything of the sort. But he would have the truth, one way or another. And then, if what he suspected was true, he would cheerfully murder the Russian.
Prince Kirov whirled Megan expertly around the floor. Her skirt billowed out behind her. He looked down at her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “You need not have flirted so desperately with that gamester, mademoiselle. I know that you are too sensible to be caught up in that one’s sweetened flatteries.”
Megan met his gaze. “Of course I am,” she agreed. “Just as I am far too sensible to be caught up in a certain Russian prince’s flattering phrases.”
“Touché, mademoiselle. You are very quick,” said Prince Kirov appreciatively. “Who was the swain who rescued you?”
“Why, do you not know him?” asked Megan, surprised.
“There is something familiar about him. But no, I do not know him,” said Prince Kirov, casting a glance in the direction he had last seen the tall young gentleman in military togs. He was startled to meet a smoldering stare from the unknown man. Instantly, he instinctively recognized a force of character that challenged his own dominant personality. “Who is he, Megan?” he said abruptly.
At his tone, Megan looked up at him quickly. “Why, I believe that you are jealous! Surely you are not jealous, Mikhail!”
“Of course not! I merely do not wish you to be importuned by every jumped-up soldier in town on leave,” said Prince Kirov with dignity.
Megan started to laugh. “You do not understand, Mikhail. That is my brother, Colin. He would take exception to your unflattering description of him, I assure you!”
Prince Kirov’s stern features relaxed. He recalled that his trustworthy companion had told him that Miss O’Connell had a brother in the Lifeguards. It would behoove him to get on a friendly footing with this fierce-looking brother, he thought. “Of course that is your brother. Did I not say that he looked familiar? He favors you in coloring.”
“Do you think so? Most people think that he and my sister Celeste are closer in appearance, for they are twins. I am the youngest and not thought to resemble anyone,” said Megan.
“Ah, a swan among less graceful birds,” said Prince Kirov softly.
Megan shook her head, smiling. “Did I not say I was wise to the flatterer, your highness?”
“I do not offer empty words, Megan,” began Prince Kirov.
Megan threw him an amused glance. “No, merely ones of sweetened froth.”
His arm tightened about her waist. He stared down at her, a somewhat grim line forming about his mobile mouth. “You do not believe me, mademoiselle?”
“Oh, Misha. I only know that you believe all that you say to me,” sighed Megan.
His anger vanished. “Trust me, Megan,” he urged. “That is all that I ask.”
“Then you ask for my life,” said Megan quietly.
Prince Kirov was taken aback. He realized that what she said was true. But she had not carried her conclusions far enough. “And I offer you mine in return,” he said with equal quiet.
Megan’s eyes rose, a startled question in their smoky depths.
The waltz was concluding, but neither noticed straightaway. Prince Kirov slowed their steps until they came to a stand. He loosed her, only to raise her gloved fingers to his lips. “Megan, I—”
They were interrupted. Captain O’Connell took his sister’s elbow. “Megan! I am glad that I have found you. I hope that you have not yet been solicited for dinner, for I am counting on escorting you in myself.”
“I don’t know. That is, I—” Megan looked from her brother to the prince.
Prince Kirov stepped back. He smiled. “It is never the appropriate time, it seems. Mademoiselle, pray introduce me.”
“Oh! Of course! Your highness, this is my brother, Captain Colin O’Connell of the Lifeguards. Colin, Prince Mikhail Sergei Alexsander Kirov. The prince was my host during my stay in St. Petersburg,” said Megan.
Captain O’Connell smiled. He was himself a tall man, but the Russian topped him by an inch or two. He disliked it. “Prince Kirov, it is a distinct pleasure. St. Petersburg must be a wondrous place. My sister returned to us a different woman.”
Prince Kirov sensed the latent hostility underlying the other man’s words. He smiled also, but the wolf in him gleamed from his eyes. “Ah, Captain O’Connell, you are too kind. We must talk sometime. I am certain that we shall have much to discuss.”
“Agreed, your highness,” said Captain O’Connell.
Megan looked from one to the other, puzzled. Both men were smiling and they spoke with perfect amiability. However, there was a tension between them that she did not quite understand. She laid her hand on her brother’s muscular arm. “Colin—”
“Perhaps I should explain, Captain O’Connell, that my intentions toward your sister are honorable,” said Prince Kirov abruptly, his gaze studying the other man’s face. “I have always regarded Miss O’Connell with the highest degree of respect. She has never, nor shall she ever, take injury from my hands. I give you my word of honor on that.”
Captain O’Connell regarded him unsmilingly. He made a slight bow. “It is understood, your highness.” He held out his hand. “Will you accept my friendship, Prince Kirov?”
Prince Kirov smiled and shook hands. With greatest good humor, he said, “Of course. Why should there be enmity between us? We are to be brothers.”
Startled, Captain O’Connell glanced quickly at his sister. She was blushing fiercely and there was a spark of anger in her eyes. He grinned. “Are you indeed! Megan had not informed me.”
“She is overly cautious,” said Prince Kirov, dropping his voice to a confidential level. He was watching Megan’s face while he spoke. “I have protested my love for her, but she continues to hold me at arm’s length. Perhaps I might enlist your influence on my behalf, Captain O’Connell?”
“Oh!” Megan was thoroughly embarrassed and incensed. “You are impossible, Misha! Do go away! Colin, take me in to dinner. I have heard quite enough nonsense.”
Prince Kirov laughed, bowed, and strolled away. Captain O’Connell offered his arm to his sister, saying, “He’ll have you, Megan.”
“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.<
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* * *
Chapter 17
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!”
* * *
Chapter 18
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.