A Magnificent Match (27 page)

“Oh, indeed! I was never more shocked than at the transformation of my dear sweet daughter upon her return from St. Petersburg,” said Lady O’Connell quickly. She was anxious to establish once and for all that she was not in any way to blame for Megan’s recent behavior. “I shall bar the house from Prince Kirov on the instant.”

“But—but that is ridiculous! Prince Kirov is one of my most ardent admirers,” stammered Megan. She dared not reveal just how dear she held him to be. “He is certainly far and away much more eligible than many of the others!”

“Eligibility is what one makes it. I already have the jawbone of an ass for a son-in-law. I do not intend to risk acquiring a heedless hedonist,” said Lord O’Connell. “I approve of your decision, my lady. By all means, instruct the staff that Kirov is no longer welcome.”

Megan instinctively began to protest. “But, sir!” At her father’s darkening expression, however, she swallowed back the tumble of hasty words that was choking her. He was looking at her with a particularly obdurate glint in his eyes. Now was certainly not the best time to persuade Lord O’Connell of his massive mistake.

Instead Megan requested permission to be excused. It was granted to her and she left the drawing room. Once outside the closed doors, she picked up her skirts and flew upstairs. She had to tell Mrs. Tyler at once of the awful thing that had just happened.

The injunction against Prince Kirov was swiftly carried out and he learned of it in very short order. Prince Kirov frequently called at the O’Connell town house. He was astonished the next day when he was denied the door. “What did you say?” he asked with liveliest astonishment.

The porter who barred the door to him repeated his orders. “Begging your pardon, your highness, but there it is,” he added with some sympathy.

Prince Kirov shoved his shoulder into the door, sending the porter flying. The man skidded across the marble tiles and brought up against the opposite wall. Prince Kirov did not notice. His eyes extremely hard and cold, he strode down the hallway. “Where is Lady O’Connell? I wish to have a word with her!” he snapped.

Digby appeared, along with two footmen. “Your highness!” With a comprehensive glance at the porter, the butler drew himself up. “I am sorry, your highness, but you shall have to leave.”

“You mistake. I do not leave until I have seen Lady O’Connell,” said Prince Kirov conversationally. He smiled, but it was a wolfish expression. “And do not think to set your accomplices on me, Digby, for I should very much regret breaking their heads.” He flexed his large hands suggestively, still smiling that disturbing smile.

The butler inclined his head. He was not a coward and nor were the footmen. However, the gentleman standing before them was in truth virtually a giant, and a very angry one at that. Digby considered himself to be a prudent man. He would allow his master to deal with the prince. He motioned to the footmen to step aside, to their patent relief. “Very well, your highness. Allow me to show you into the library, where you will find Lord O’Connell. He will receive you.”

Prince Kirov laughed, but his ice-blue eyes glittered. “You may rest assured of that!”

The short interlude had been loud enough to bring Lord O’Connell to the door. “What is going forward, Digby?” he demanded. With growing astonishment, he realized himself to have come under the narrowed scrutiny of a very tall, very large gentleman. His lordship’s bushy brows met over his hard eyes, for he was not used to be regarded in such a way. His voice chilly, he inquired, “Yes? Do you have business here, sir?”

“I am Kirov,” announced Prince Kirov. “I desired to speak to her ladyship. However, I address my query to you, my lord, since I discover you to be in residence.”

“Kirov!” Lord O’Connell glanced accusingly at his servants. For the first time he took note of the porter, who was still holding his head. His gaze raked back to the prince. “You have had the audacity to force your way into my house! Outrageous!”

Prince Kirov bowed. “I am a man of decision, my lord. We shall discuss the matter.”

“There is nothing to discuss, your highness! I have decided that your suit for my daughter is not welcome to me. That is all,” said Lord O’Connell hastily.

Prince Kirov raised his brows. “Indeed! May I inquire Miss O’Connell’s preference in the matter?”

Lord O’Connell began to redden. He was fully aware of the servants’ lively curiosity. “That is quite beside the point! However, if you must have it, my daughter shall naturally obey my wishes. She will not receive you. I bid you good day, Prince Kirov!” He started to turn away.

“You have the right to deny me entrance, my lord. However, you do not command me otherwise. I shall continue to make Miss O’Connell the object of my honorable attentions,” said Prince Kirov silkily. “None shall say me nay, my lord.”

Lord O’Connell glared at the arrogant prince. The effrontery of the man was unbelievable. His lordship was more than ever convinced that his decision had been the right one. He would not have any connection between his family and one so lost to propriety and a sense of consequence. “I do not bandy words with you, Prince Kirov. Now I demand that you leave this place instantly!”

“I do not think that you understand whom you are addressing, my lord.” Prince Kirov smiled again. There was such a savage expression in his eyes that Lord O’Connell took an unconscious step backward. “Ah, perhaps you discern a little, my lord. We shall speak again, I promise you.”

Prince Kirov bowed. Then he spun around on his boot heel and strode down the hall to the front door. He opened it, paused to glance back with a flash of glittering anger, and exited. The door was pulled shut with resounding force.

Lord O’Connell discovered that he had been holding his breath. It greatly annoyed him. He glared around at the butler and other servants. “What the devil are you staring at?” He stepped back into the library and slammed the door.

The tale went through the household with amazing speed. Within minutes every servant in the house was in possession of the facts of the astonishing confrontation. Simpkins heard it belowstairs and though the dresser preserved a dignified front, she at once went up to apprise Mrs. Tyler of the news. “I’ll not be saying that the story has not been somewhat exaggerated, ma’am. However, I thought you would wish to know,” ended the dresser.

“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Tyler, her brows drawn together. Arousing herself out of her reflections, she smiled at the dresser and dismissed her. Then she went to the sitting room to pen a short note addressed to Prince Kirov. She called for a footman and requested that it be delivered at once.

This interesting communication was given to Prince Kirov before he set out for an evening with friends. The prince frowned over its contents, then folded it away. It did not surprise him that Mrs. Tyler stood his friend; nor that that good lady had chosen to set down some carefully chosen words of advice. What did surprise him was the explanation for Lord O’Connell’s incomprehensible bias against him.

Prince Kirov could only shake his head over the rigid rules of etiquette that formed Lord O’Connell’s personality and character. He, for one, saw nothing at all improper in Megan’s success. And to place the blame for any perceived wildness in Megan at his door was ludicrous in the extreme, he thought. Megan was certainly much more the product of her upbringing than of any influence that her short sojourn in St. Petersburg might have brought to bear!

Prince Kirov left his residence still exercised by his reflections. He shortly came to realize that the English milord’s mind was virtually alien to his experience. Much as he was reluctant to admit it even to himself, Prince Kirov needed help to crack the shell of this particular nut.

Sir Frederick happened to be at the party. Prince Kirov at once realized that here was just the gentleman who might be depended upon to give him the insight that he desired. He sought him out, saying, “I have a diplomatic problem, Sir Frederick. I hope that you will be able to help me.”

Sir Frederick was instantly curious. “I should be most happy to lay my experience open to you, your highness.”

Prince Kirov gestured to a card table in an alcove and the two gentlemen repaired to it. They were trailed by Fedor, who took up a wary stance a few feet away, out of earshot but near enough to his master to obey his summons.

Once seated, the prince seemed at a momentary loss. He sat frowning into space before turning to Sir Frederick. “You may know that I am a suitor for Miss O’Connell’s hand.”

Sir Frederick nodded. A flicker of amusement touched his face. “I believe all the world knows that you have aspirations in that direction.”

Prince Kirov smiled, a sudden wolfish expression. “I have not made a secret of it. It is good that Miss O’Connell’s admirers know this.”

“What is the problem, then, your highness? Does not Miss O’Connell favor your suit?” asked Sir Frederick boldly.

Prince Kirov stiffened. His eyes flashed. “Miss O’Connell has indeed honored me with her favor, Sir Frederick. That is not where the trouble lies. It is with Lord and Lady O’Connell. I had hoped that you might shed some light on the workings of the English mind, for I am at a loss to understand the action that they have taken against me. Do I not love their daughter? Am I not an eligible parti? Am I not wealthier than most men? Is not my birth superior to their own?”

Sir Frederick eyed the Russian with fascination. “What precisely have Lord and Lady O’Connell done, your highness?”

“They have denied me the house and I am told by Mrs. Tyler that Miss O’Connell has been ordered not to think of me any longer as a principal suitor,” said Prince Kirov heavily.

There was a moment of incredulous silence. “You astonish me, your highness,” said Sir Frederick with perfect truth. “I cannot perceive how your suit could be so repugnant to them if Miss O’Connell herself is amenable.” He shot a swift look at the Russian. “Unless, of course,Miss O’Connell is not as willing as you believe?”

“I have told you! Miss O’Connell is in love with me. She would accept my suit in a trice if it were not for this ridiculous ban against me,” said Prince Kirov. He audibly ground his teeth. “I do not deal in dishonor, Sir Frederick. You know enough about me to know that is true. I say that Miss O’Connell is in love with me and that the desire of my heart is to make her my wife. You may believe that it is so.”

“Yes, I know well your sense of honor. Prince Kirov,” said Sir Frederick.

Prince Kirov felt a release of tension inside him that surprised him. He had not realized how much he wanted Sir Frederick to believe him. “Then you will help me.” It was not a question but a statement.

Sir Frederick laughed. “Yes; at least, I shall try. What do you wish me to do? Do you want me to act as your intermediary with Lord and Lady O’Connell? The position of marriage broker is a bit outside my realm of experience, but I suspect that it is not much different than other types of negotiations.”

Prince Kirov thought over Sir Frederick’s offer. It was an attractive one, but he realized that it held no guarantee of success. He preferred to rely upon his own resources. “Perhaps. We shall see. At the moment, I request only that you explain to me how I might bring myself back into Lord and Lady O’Connell’s good graces.”

“My good man! You ask the moon. I cannot very well read their minds,” said Sir Frederick, taken aback.

Prince Kirov flashed a grin. “Ah, but you can! You are English. You know how your countrymen must reason, just as I know how a Russian must reason. You have been in diplomatic circles and must know a score of tricks, besides. You shall tell me what I must do.” He settled back in his chair and confidently savored his wine while Sir Frederick stared across the parquet table at him.

“The devil. You are right,” said Sir Frederick finally, ruefully. “I, better than anyone, should be able to aid you. Very well. Let me think for a moment.”

Prince Kirov gestured graciously. “Of course, Sir Frederick. I am a patient man.”

Sir Frederick cracked a disbelieving laugh at that, but he merely shook his head at the prince’s look of inquiry. “I’ll not muddy the waters with my opinion of that, your highness.”

“I am Kirov. What more is there to say?” asked Prince Kirov.

Sir Frederick did not reply to what he felt certain was a rhetorical question. Instead he bent his mind to the prince’s problem. After several frowning minutes, he glanced again at the prince. “Are you certain that Miss O’Connell’s affections are engaged?”

“You have my word of honor that it is so,” said Prince Kirov quietly.

Sir Frederick was impressed that the prince did not respond with his usual arrogance but instead with dignity. “Very well, then. I shall help you to her hand. My advice to you is to make your suit indispensable to Lord and Lady O’Connell.”

Prince Kirov stared at his companion. His well-marked brows lowered. “I do not understand. How am I to do this?”

“Think, your highness! You have told me yourself all of your excellent points. But none of these are vitally important in and of themselves to the O’Connell’s. In one form or another, a score of other gentlemen can fit those same requirements,” said Sir Frederick.

“There is no one better than I!” declared Prince Kirov. At his ringing tone, his silent and ever-present companion started toward the table. The dwarfs hand had slipped to the knife only partially hidden beneath his coat front.

“Perhaps, but not in the eyes of your prospective in-laws,” retorted Sir Frederick. “And you had best call off Fedor, for I do not go unarmed myself.”

“You are right,” said Prince Kirov. He waved the dwarf back. “Though I suspect that Fedor might give a very good account of himself. Now, Sir Frederick, I place myself in your hands. How do you suggest that I accomplish my purpose?”

Sir Frederick frowned thoughtfully. “From all accounts, and judging from my own observations. Lady O’Connell is a rather vain, self-indulgent woman. She is undoubtedly motivated by self-interest.”

“That much is true. Her ladyship is not moved by an appeal to her softer nature,” said Prince Kirov. “In fact, I do not believe that she has one. This very afternoon I sought out Lady O’Connell, knowing that she takes tea with Mrs. Hadcombe, and walked her to her carriage. When I declared myself in love with Miss O’Connell and requested her clemency, Lady O’Connell refused. She called for her servants to give me the go-by!”