by Gayle Buck
“That is undoubtedly true,” agreed Lord Dorsey. “A certain steadiness of character is inevitable as one grows older.”
“Precisely what I was saying to Miss O’Connell earlier,” said Prince Kirov promptly. “She takes exception, however, and maintains that one who was volatile can never become more steadfast or faithful of purpose.”
Megan knew that she was blushing hotly. She sensed the curiosity roused in her companions by the prince’s comments. Smiling, with a sparkling challenge in her eyes, she said, “You choose to tease me, your highness. But I am not to be so ignobly baited.”
She addressed her companions, giving a light explanation of the familiarity between herself and the prince. “Princess Elizaveta Kirov was my hostess while I was in St. Petersburg. Mrs. Tyler and I came to know Prince Kirov quite well. He was very attentive to see to our enjoyment of his country.”
“Ah, some of our racers return,” said Lord Dorsey. He hailed the first to reach them. “Well, Haven, who took the honors?”
“Oh, Lawrence did, of course. That great brute of his has the longest stride I have ever seen,” said Lord Haven cheerfully. He caught sight of the stallion bestrode by a stranger. “I say, there’s a beast that could give your Rufus a go, Lawrence!”
“This is Prince Mikhail Kirov,” said Megan, performing introductions quickly.
As she had expected, the high-spirited gentlemen quickly accepted the prince as one of their own. They were making exactly the impression she had hoped, as evidenced when Prince Kirov at length drew alongside her and commented, “You have a lively set of friends, mademoiselle.”
Megan agreed with a smile. “Yes, they are all very kind.”
“Particularly the gentlemen?” he inquired softly.
She laughed and shook her head. “I have not said so, nor shall I! You must draw your own conclusions, Mikhail.”
The prince smiled. “I rest easy, Megan. I see none here to frighten me.”
At that moment, Miss Phoebe came riding up. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were abnormally bright. She was shortly followed by Captain O’Connell and Mrs. O’Connell. Without preamble, she addressed her sister. “Annabelle, I wish to go home now. I have developed the headache.”
“Oh! Of course, Phoebe, we shall do so at once,” said Miss Stallcroft. She stammered their excuses to the company, then she and her sister turned aside with their grooms.
Megan glanced swiftly at her sister-in-law, but Mrs. O’Connell briefly shook her head. Megan interpreted that to mean that Sophronia would tell her later what had occurred. She had naturally noticed that Sophronia had lingered behind with her brother and Miss Phoebe, and had wondered what had kept them from coming up to the rest of the party for so long. Obviously something of moment had happened. Her brother Colin was looking as black as a thundercloud as he stared after the Misses Stallcroft.
“I should accompany them at least to my own door,” said Miss Bancroft. “For we all came together.”
“Allow me to count myself your escort,” said Lord Dorsey promptly.
“And I!” exclaimed Mr. Peasbody. “You will not have it all your own way, Dorsey.”
“You will not go alone,” said Lord Haven gaily. “I am ready to cut you both out for the pleasure of Miss Bancroft’s company.”
Miss Bancroft protested with pretty confusion the vying for her favors, but she was pleased nevertheless. Before too many minutes had passed, the riders had separated into two parties. The Stallcroft girls and Miss Bancroft carried off with them the majority of the gentlemen, including Captain O’Connell, while Megan and Mrs. O’Connell were escorted by Sir Lawrence and Mr. Newton.
Prince Kirov took his leave, citing an engagement that he could not shirk. He rode off with his silent companion. Sir Lawrence glanced after the prince. He smiled lazily, sliding his intelligent gaze at Megan. “That is a rare gentleman,” he remarked.
Megan was embarrassed to feel heat rise into her face. Sir Lawrence had caught her staring after the prince. “Yes, he is,” she said quietly.
Before turning off into her own street, Mrs. O’Connell held out her hand to each of the remaining gentlemen. When she parted from Megan, she said in a hurried aside, “I shall send a note round to you later!” Mr. Newton gallantly constituted himself her protector and turned off with Mrs. O’Connell to see her to her door. Sir Lawrence saw Megan home and used his time well by soliciting her for a dance at a ball later that evening.
* * *
Chapter 16
Megan heard from Mrs. O’Connell as promised. Her hurried note notified Megan that she was off that moment to Lady Stallcroft’s residence, for things had taken such a turn with Colin and Phoebe Stallcroft that she wasn’t quite certain how it would end. It seemed that Colin had declared himself to Phoebe and she had flatly refused him! However, Captain O’Connell had not accepted this rebuff and had vowed to seek an audience with both Lord and Lady Stallcroft that same day to apologize for his previous outrageous behavior and to beg their consideration of his suit.
Megan had heard nothing more from Mrs. O’Connell before she and Mrs. Tyler set out for the ball that evening. She thought that her sister-in-law would probably be among the guests, and contained her impatient curiosity with the hope that sometime during the evening she might be able to learn from Sophronia what had happened. The burgeoning romance between her brother Colin and Phoebe Stallcroft was becoming dear to her heart.
Lady O’Connell came in a separate carriage escorted by her son, Mister O’Connell. “It is no use saying that we four might ride together, Lionel,” said her ladyship, when her son pointed out that it must look odd for Megan to arrive on her own with no one but Mrs. Tyler to accompany her. “I absolutely refuse to feel crowded in my own carriage.”
Lady Bishop’s ball was an extravaganza to which all of the ton had been invited. Long before the hostess was able to leave her station in greeting her guests, she was gratified by hearing the function described as a terrible squeeze. The crowds, bejeweled and magnificently attired in silks and satins, milled around the dance floor. An orchestra played constantly for the dancers and the din of conversation and laughter was such that none could hear their neighbors without raising their voices. The refreshment room was next to the orchestra and it was nearly as loud. It was quieter in the card room, located at the far end of the ballroom, where several tables had been set up for the pleasure of those whose tastes ran to games of chance.
Megan’s hand was solicited for nearly every dance, Sir Lawrence having the honor of bearing her off first. He was tall and personable and Megan enjoyed his company very much.
It was not long before she had the strangest feeling of being under observation and she turned her head. She discovered that Prince Kirov’s unfathomable gaze was fixed upon her, and Megan gave the slightest nod. The prince scowled, but Megan was not displeased. She had told him that she had acquired admirers. It would do Prince Kirov good to realize that she had spoken nothing less than the truth.
Megan knew virtually everyone in attendance, since she had been on the town long enough to have been introduced into all the polite circles. She moved among the company with the ease of familiarity, her eyes sparkling as she exchanged witticisms and laughter.
Sometime in the progress of the evening, when the ballroom had become stiflingly warm, a gentleman volunteered to go after an ice for her, and Megan remained in her seat. She watched Mrs. Tyler finish a country dance with Mr. Bretton, a solid-looking gentleman of middle years. Her companion was returned with heightened color and a bright look in her eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself, Gwyneth?” asked Megan, leaning over.
“Oh, very much! I do not believe that we have ever been to a better party,” said Mrs. Tyler, fanning herself. Her gaze followed Mr. Bretton’s retreating form for a moment, before she suddenly turned to Megan. “My dear! Did you chance to see the meeting between Lionel and Sophronia?”
Megan chuckled. “Indeed I did, and I was
never more entertained. I do not believe that Lionel even recognized her for several seconds. Then I saw him go straight up to her and say something that I could see put her into an absolute flame.”
“He demanded that Sophronia leave with him at once and she refused!” said Mrs. Tyler.
“So that was why Lionel turned on his heel and stamped off. His expression was thunderous, too. It set a few tongues wagging, I’ll wager,” said Megan.
“Of that there can be no doubt. I was asked who Lionel was by Lady Mansfield’s sister, a dear creature but a sad gossip, I’m afraid, and when I told her, she positively radiated interest,” said Mrs. Tyler. She shook her head. “I really fear that Lionel’s arrival, and the way he has already behaved just tonight, will set in motion a rare scandal.”
“Yes, I shouldn’t wonder at it in the least. It can’t be helped, however. Lionel will try to bully his way,” said Megan. “We will be questioned, naturally, by all sorts of people. For my part, I shan’t say anything that will add fuel to the fire.”
“No, indeed! Silence is certainly the best course,” agreed Mrs. Tyler.
Megan’s gallant returned with the cold refreshment and sat down beside her to dally in a light flirtation. This pleasant interlude was interrupted by Lord Haven, who claimed Miss O’Connell’s hand for the next set. When the other gallant had gone off. Lord Haven confided, “I was hoping that you would prefer going into the card room with me, Miss O’Connell. There is a famous game going forward. I left Nick Peasbody and Newton in dire straits and I am anxious to see how they fare.”
Megan laughed. “Of course! How shabby it would be of me to keep you in suspense of their fate by tying you to the dance floor.”
“I knew you would understand,” said Lord Haven with boyish naiveté. He bowed to Mrs. Tyler and escorted Megan toward the card room.
When Megan and Lord Haven entered the card room, it was to a hushed atmosphere. All eyes appeared to be fixed on the players at the table in the middle of the floor. Mr. Montebatten Swail, Mr. Peasbody, Mr. Newton, and two other gentlemen were engaged in a serious struggle, as could be seen from the mound of guineas, notes, and scribbled IOUs in the middle of the table.
Only the whisper of the cards against the green baize broke the silence as each man discarded and more cards were dealt. At last the hand was played out, and a collective breath was loosed around the room. There were a few chuckles as Mr. Peasbody shook his head and snorted in disgust. Mr. Swail smiled and gathered in the pile of clinking coins and notes.
“Well, Swail, your luck is in at last,” said one of the losing gentlemen, rising.
“I think it must be,” agreed Mr. Swail suavely. He looked up just then and caught sight of Megan standing beside Lord Haven, who was commiserating with his friends. “Ah, Miss O’Connell! Do you play cards?”
It was an era when knowing the rudiments of card playing was almost a prerequisite in polite society. Megan had several times enjoyed making up one of a foursome. “On occasion, sir. But I am no real hand at it, I fear.”
“You must allow others to judge that, Miss O’Connell. Pray sit down with me for a friendly turn. I give you my word that I shall not fleece you,” said Mr. Swail.
“Take my revenge for me, Miss O’Connell!” said Mr. Newton laughingly. Several of the other gentlemen joined in urging the lady to acquit the losers. Before she quite knew how it came about, Megan found herself sitting opposite Mr. Swail. She knew herself to be fairly competent with the pasteboards and so it did not cross her mind that what she had lent herself to could be in any way dangerous.
Within minutes, however, Megan realized that she was in a fight for her life. Mr. Swail was a gamester through and through. He did not play except to win and there was no such thing as mercy either in the astute placing of his cards or in his heart. Megan looked across at the urbane, smiling gentleman, seeing for the first time the cold, calculating light in his eyes. She recalled Sir Lawrence’s offhand warning to Miss Bancroft about Mr. Swail during the ride in the park, and with a sinking feeling felt herself to be lost. She was not a gambler and to see her vowels in the hands of a gentleman who was minute by minute proving himself to be quite without character was sobering.
Finally, she refused to stake another vowel. “I am sorry, Mr. Swail. But I have nothing more,” said Megan quietly.
Mr. Swail laughed. He was the only person present who was in the least amused. What had begun in good fun had taken an ugly turn, and there was not a gentleman present who did not know it. “Come, Miss O’Connell! Have you nothing left?”
She shook her head. “I fear not, Mr. Swail.”
He suddenly reached out and pushed all of his winnings into the middle of the table. “All or nothing, Miss O’Connell! Does that not persuade you?”
Megan did not allow her expression to betray how uncertain she felt. That would have been fatal. One did not reveal weakness on the hunting field or at the card table.
She unclasped the bracelet from around her slim wrist and tossed it onto the table. “A lady’s token, sir. Surely as such it must match the challenge?” It was a grand gesture and unexpected. She calmly looked across at her opponent.
“By Jove, yes! I for one shall back that bet, Miss O’Connell,” said Lord Haven, leaning forward to put down a small pile of guineas. Someone laughed and another gentleman declared himself quite as ready to back Miss O’Connell’s hand and thrust forward with his own offerings.
Mr. Swail smiled. There was even a flicker of amusement in his gray eyes. “Very well. We shall see if your luck is in, Miss O’Connell.” Deliberately he dealt the remaining cards and swept up his own.
Megan looked at her cards, careful not to allow by even the flicker of an eyelid any betrayal to her opponent. Without a word passing between her and Mr. Swail, the hand was played out. By a narrow margin, Megan rose the winner, amid the laughter and congratulations of her cavaliers.
“Allow me to gather your winnings for you, Miss O’Connell,” said Mr. Newton, bowing over her hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Newton, I would be grateful,” said Megan.
“Your bracelet, Miss O’Connell,” said Mr. Swail with a saturnine smile.
Megan accepted it from his hand with thanks. She clasped it about her wrist again, silently vowing never again to be caught in such harrowing circumstances. It was one thing to play cards and quite another to plunge over her head.
“Perhaps you will honor the loser with a turn about the dance floor, Miss O’Connell?” asked Mr. Swail suavely.
Megan hesitated; then she heard the striking up of a country dance. It was treading dangerously to encourage the gentleman after making such a spectacle of herself. But she would not run frightened of shadows. She smiled and laid her fingers on the gentleman’s arm. “I would be delighted, Mr. Swail.”
However, before the couple had reached the floor they were intercepted. Captain O’Connell smiled at Mr. Swail with a somewhat steely look in his eyes. “I beg pardon, Monty, but I’ve come to steal my sister away for a few moments. You do not mind, I hope?”
“Of course not. Why should I?” Mr. Swail smiled and bowed, gracefully relinquishing Megan. But not before he had turned over her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.
Without further ado, Captain O’Connell steered his sister away. “I don’t know what maggot has got into your brain tonight, Megan. I’m just glad that I am at hand to keep you from compounding your mistake!” he said in a low, terse voice.
“Colin, whatever do you think you are doing?” asked Megan, shaking off her brother’s hand. “I was simply going to go down a country dance with Mr. Swail.”
“Yes, after playing cards with him! Monty Swail, of all people! I was never more shocked than when I came out of the refreshment room and someone told me! The whole room is buzzing, Megan,” said Captain O’Connell.
“Oh, is it? How gratifying, to be sure,” said Megan with a small chuckle. She could envision Prince Kirov’s expression
at learning of her slightly scandalous escapade. It was worth every nerve-racking moment if it served to incite his protective nature.
“That fellow is not someone you should even acknowledge. He’s a rotter of the worst sort,” said Captain O’Connell. He was still scowling after the retreating gentleman. If he had ever thought about the Honorable Montebatten Swail, it was to regard that gentleman with a sort of friendly indifference. However, that was at an end now that the gentleman had made his sister the object of every whisperer in the place.
“I am well aware of that, now,” said Megan. “That is precisely why I agreed to dance with him.”
Captain O’Connell swung his head around and stared hard at her. “Have you gone mad?” he demanded.
Megan smiled up at him. “Not at all. I am quite aware of what I am doing. It is a little game all my own.”
“Little game? Megan, you could find yourself ostracized for associating with such scoundrels,” said Captain O’Connell. “Pray enlighten me. What exactly are you attempting to accomplish by running such a ridiculous risk?”
“Never mind, Colin,” said Megan, chuckling. “My affairs are not your concern.”
Captain O’Connell was angered by her amusement. “What do you mean by that? I am your brother, Megan! Of course I am concerned for you.”
Megan raised her brows slightly. There was a sudden coolness in both her expression and her voice. “Colin, you astonish me. Why, we have neither of us ever interfered in the other’s life, nor have we ever put ourselves out for one another. I can perceive no reason why you must needs change that unspoken rule now.”
Megan swept away, leaving her brother prey to angry thoughts and the unpleasant suspicion that he was reaping much of the disinterest he had sown in his past relationship with his sister. The irony of it was that he had always cared about Megan, if only in a loosely affectionate way. If he could help her without putting himself to any trouble, such as staving off one of their brother Lionel’s tirades, then he was willing to do so. But he had never put her interests before his own and now saw what was coming of it. Megan was unwilling to listen to his advice because he had never proven himself worthy of either her respect or trust.
