A Magnificent Match (26 page)

“You are hysterical,” said Lord O’Connell with disgust. “If Megan is not toeing the line, it is because you have not kept a tight enough rein on her. As her mother, your example must influence her.”

“I am certain that I never influenced her to try her luck at the faro table or the races!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell. “As for marrying her off, I have never been more certain in my life that I shall detest a son-in-law more, whomever he might be, for it is fact that he will have placed a bet at White’s in favor of his odds in winning Megan’s hand!”

“What!” Lord O’Connell stared at his wife, suddenly straightening in his chair. “What is that about bets being laid? What was that, madame?”

Lady O’Connell looked at her spouse with a degree of grim satisfaction. “Did you hear that, at least? Yes, my lord, our daughter is the subject of betting at White’s. I have it on perfect authority that there are several gentlemen who have entered the lists and placed bets on their chances to win Megan’s hand!”

“I do not believe it!” exclaimed Lord O’Connell, scowling. He had always delighted in horseracing and betting was a natural part of the racing atmosphere. He thought nothing odd in the fact that his daughter might place a few genteel bets of her own at the races. Even playing at faro was not outside what might be acceptable. He himself delighted in the odd chance. However, it was quite a different matter to be informed that his daughter was being touted like a two-year-old filly at the gates. His sense of rigid propriety was insulted.

“Go to White’s yourself, my lord. I should like to be informed that my sources were inaccurate,” said Lady O’Connell.

Lord O’Connell lunged to his feet. “I shall do so at once. And if I find that it is true that
your
daughter is the focus of such ill-bred controversy, I shall have much to say to you, my dear lady!” he said wrathfully. He strode out of the drawing room, ignoring his wife’s scandalized disclaimer.

Lord O’Connell repaired at once to White’s. It had been many years since he had entered its portals, but the porter recognized him nevertheless and greeted him. Lord O’Connell ordered a brandy from a waiter and settled into a deep chair in the gaming room. He listened to the conversations around him in an idle fashion. Just when he began to relax, enjoying the excellent brandy, and suspect that Lady O’Connell’s outrageous contention had been false, he overheard his daughter’s name.

Lord O’Connell listened intently and with gathering wrath. The betting book was called for and a bet placed amid much laughter and raillery among the parties. Shortly thereafter, Lord O’Connell left White’s in a towering rage. His scowling expression was so intimidating that the porter did not dare to wish his lordship good day.

Lord O’Connell returned to the town house. He sent word upstairs that he wished to speak to his wife and daughter. He was not happy to learn that neither lady was at home and were not due to return until several hours later. “Am I supposed to kick my heels here all day waiting for them?” he inquired wrathfully of the butler.

Digby retained his wooden expression. “No, my lord.”

Lord O’Connell snorted. He waved the butler out and flung himself into an easy chair with the racing journals. After reading the racing news, Lord O’Connell decided to go to Tattersall’s. Perhaps there might be a nag or two that would be worth bidding on. At least he would not be wasting all of his time in London.

Lord and Lady O’Connell both returned to the town house about the same time. They met politely in the drawing room to discuss their daughter. For once they found themselves in complete agreement. A halt had to be made to Megan’s wild progress.

When Megan returned late that afternoon, she was informed by the butler that his lordship was in residence and had requested that she wait on him when she came in.

Megan looked at the butler in mild surprise. “My father here in London? It scarcely seems possible. Why has he come, Digby?”

“I cannot say, miss,” said the butler. He hesitated, then said, “His lordship seemed strangely exercised over something, miss. His lordship and Lady O’Connell have been closeted together for the last hour in the drawing room.”

Megan raised her brows slightly. “Odd, indeed. Very well, I shall come down again as soon as I have put off my pelisse and bonnet. Is Mrs. Tyler about?”

“She returned some minutes earlier, miss. I believe she is still abovestairs,” said Digby.

Megan thanked the butler and hurried upstairs. She could not imagine what her father was doing in London. It had to be a matter of great urgency to tear Lord O’Connell from his stables. Perhaps Mrs. Tyler would know.

Mrs. Tyler could not enlighten her, however. “I am as much in the dark as you are, my dear,” said Mrs. Tyler, perturbed. “When I returned, I was informed of Lord O’Connell’s sudden appearance, of course. But I have heard nothing about what has brought him here. I hope that there has not been an accident or something of that sort.”

“To Lionel, you mean, on his trip home? That wouldn’t worry my father in the least,” said Megan practically. “No. it more than likely has something to do with the horses, which means that his lordship will be in a true state.”

“Shall I go down with you?” asked Mrs. Tyler.

“I cannot conceive any reason why you should,” said Megan.

When Megan entered the drawing room, she was surprised that both of her parents turned at once to look at her. She did not recall ever having gained their instant attention upon entering a room before. She paused, trying to assess their expressions before she went forward to greet her father. “My lord, it is good to see you,” she said.

Lord O’Connell frowned at her. “I daresay! It is on your account that I am come to London. I shall tell you now that I am extremely displeased, Megan.”

Megan stared at her father, taken aback. “I do not understand.” She looked to her mother for enlightenment.

Lady O’Connell was not behind in explanation. “I wrote your father, Megan. I felt driven to do it. I have told him everything! Simply everything! He agrees with me that we cannot have this any longer. Our very reputation is at stake.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Megan, though she was beginning to have an inkling. But such a thought was sheer nonsense and only to be regarded with astonishment.

“Your rake’s progress, miss! Yes, you may stare, but so it is!” exclaimed Lord O’Connell. He thrust forward his jaw. There was outrage in his stance. “There are bets laid against your name at White’s, Megan. You have become the object of vulgar speculation and scandal. I will not have it, do you hear? I will not have it!”

“Pray calm yourself, my lord. Shouting will certainly not accomplish our purpose,” snapped Lady O’Connell. She turned to her daughter. “Megan, your father and I have agreed. Your outrageous behavior must be curtailed. You will return to Ireland at once. I shall set it about that you have gone on a repairing lease because you were going the pace too fast. That at least will be believed! Then perhaps this terrible gossip will die away.”

Lord O’Connell nodded. “You will be forgotten soon enough. Then we may be comfortable again.”

Megan looked from one parent to the other. She was dumbfounded. Then a rising anger began to darken her eyes. “Excuse me, sir, but
I
shall not be comfortable! How dare you say that you will pack me off just when I have at last embarked upon the Season that has been promised to me for two years past? I positively refuse to be buried again without hope of any sort of future. Not once have either of you paid much attention to me. And now, because I have earned a sort of harmless notoriety, you have bestirred yourselves to decide what is to be done to best insure
your
comfort!”

“Do not dare to speak to me in that tone, daughter!” roared Lord O’Connell.

“Why should I not?” inquired Megan. Her eyes flashed. “Perhaps if I had done so anytime these years past you might have realized that I am your daughter and that I do have an existence outside of my ability to sit a horse!”

“What has happened to you, Megan? You used to be so biddable, so unselfish. Now look at you! You defy us without a hint of remorse!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell, staring at her as though she was looking at something horrifying.

“I have grown up, Mother. I turned twenty last month. Do you not recall? I am not a girl any longer,” said Megan. A twisted smile touched her lips. “I am nearly on the shelf and you are determined to put me there. Well, I have decided that I am not going without a struggle.” She took a breath. “I am sorry, Father, but I shall not return to Ireland. I intend to remain in London for the remainder of the Season.”

“Nonsense! You cannot remain. We have decided it, your father and I,” said Lady O’Connell.

Lord O’Connell raised his hand. “One moment, my lady.” He looked at Megan. “Have you indeed turned twenty?”

Megan almost laughed. “Yes, I have. A fortnight past.”

“I had no notion. And you have never had a Season.” Lord O’Connell turned to look an accusation at his wife. “That was your duty, ma’am, surely? Providing a Season for our daughter?”

Lady O’Connell avoided his lordship’s eyes. “There never seemed to be a convenient time. And Celeste never required a Season, after all! I quite thought that Megan might—”

“What, Mother? Form a runaway connection as did Celeste? Though I love my sister, I never thought what she and Patrick did was quite right,” said Megan.

“No, indeed!” exclaimed Lord O’Connell. “I never approved of the manner in which Celeste left our roof. It was a scandal. You have the right of it, Megan. Runaway matches are not good
ton.
I am glad that you have the sense to see it.”

He lowered his glowering gaze onto his wife. “Madame, I demand an explanation. You have shamefully neglected Megan’s interests. This is a reflection upon me as well. No one likes to admit that he is left with a spinster daughter on his hands!”

Lady O’Connell was thrown into self-defense. “Megan cannot say that I have not done well by her! Why, I sent her off to St. Petersburg with the certainty that Princess Kirov would give her entree into the most unexceptional company. Yes, and footed the bill for a new wardrobe besides! For her
and
Mrs. Tyler! Is it my fault that she did not take?”

“On the contrary, Mother, I did take! I was immensely popular. I learned a great deal while under Princess Kirov’s aegis, which I have put to good use this Season,” said Megan. “Perhaps you do not care for the responsibility of chaperonage. Nor the way that I am talked about. But I do have any number of possible suitors from which to choose a husband. And I have strong hopes of being able to do that very thing before the Season is out.”

“Do you, indeed!” said Lord O’Connell, looking at his daughter. He saw the confidence in her proud stance. Respect stirred slightly somewhere deep within him. He suddenly smiled. “Then we must not stand in your way, Megan. By all means you shall finish out the Season.”

“But, my lord! That is not what you said twenty minutes ago!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell in dismay.

“It is what I say now, however. Megan is to be given her chance at contracting a decent match, my lady,” said Lord O’Connell.

“But what about the scandal? What about the duel and the betting? Yes, and what about my own commitments! You cannot expect me to shepherd her everywhere,” exclaimed Lady O’Connell. “I am utterly distracted as it is! Why, I have not once enjoyed an evening all Season. Someone is always mentioning Megan’s name or inquiring about her latest exploit. It is quite unnatural.”

“Obviously, then, you require help,” said Lord O’Connell. “What of Mrs. Tyler?”

Lady O’Connell stared. “My cousin? Why, she is Megan’s companion!”

“Precisely. I see no reason why Mrs. Tyler cannot accompany Megan into company. She is perfectly respectable,” said Lord O’Connell.

“Gwyneth enjoyed as much popularity in St. Petersburg as did I,” said Megan quietly. “And she is quite willing to accompany me whenever I go out. She has done so except when my mother has deemed the party to be too rarefied.”

“The problem is solved, my lady,” said Lord O’Connell. “You will allow Mrs. Tyler the liberty to choose her own entertainments and thus she will be available at all times to help you chaperone Megan.”

“Oh, very well!” snapped Lady O’Connell. “But I do not agree with raising my cousin’s expectations too high. Inevitably the moment will come when she is horridly snubbed by some extraordinarily proud personage.”

“I assure you, Mother, Gwyneth’s skin is thick against all such insult,” said Megan dryly, reflecting that it was her mother who had most often pointed out to Mrs. Tyler their differences in social standing.

“There is also Sophronia,” said Lord O’Connell. “I assume that she will be willing enough to bear-lead Megan on occasion?”

“Oh, Sophronia! She is almost as bad as Megan for flouting convention,” said Lady O’Connell. When she saw her spouse’s lowering frown, she hastily amended her statement. “What I mean is, she is known as a wonderful hostess. Simply everyone may be found at her little soirees. She has greatly changed, my lord.”

“I hope that the change is for the better,” said Lord O’Connell. “Very well, then. We go forward with the Season. Megan, I request that you give more thought to your reputation and mine! That is all I ask of you at this point.”

“I am quite willing to agree, sir,” said Megan with a smile. She was almost dizzy with the realization that she had gained everything that she had wanted. Instead of exile to Ireland, she would triumphantly finish out the Season.

Megan had very little doubt upon whom she would bestow her hand. The wild courtship would be over and she would become betrothed to Prince Mikhail Kirov. The thought left behind a tingling feeling of pleasure and anticipation.

Lord O’Connell’s next words fell like a bucket of cold water splashed over her head. “There is one stipulation that I shall make, however. You are not to encourage that Kirov fellow,” he said. “I have heard enough in the short time that I have been in town to form the opinion that he is completely contemptuous of convention. I am thus able to see quite clearly that your present wildness stems from your sojourn under Princess Kirov’s roof. I do not wish that influence to continue. I therefore forbid you to entertain his advances any longer, Megan. Do you not agree, my lady?”