Free A Magnificent Match by Gayle Buck Page B

Miss O’Connell? Do you pay heed to the voice of duty or to the whisperings of your heart? Would you throw over all of this”—he made a sweeping gesture around at the glittering bejeweled crowd, then placed his hand against his chest—”in order to satisfy the yearnings of this?”
    Megan shook her head. “I do not know. You ask me something of which I have no experience.”
    “I have had such experience, dear sister.” Prince Kirov smiled again, but as though he was looking back over a particular memory. “It is a felicitous thing indeed when one’s heartfelt inclinations come into alignment with one’s duty.”
    “I know little to nothing of such difficult choices,” said Megan. She was made vaguely uncomfortable by the prince’s unusual descent into sober rumination. “However, I do know that our time together grows short, your highness. Here is Prince Vladimir to claim his set with me.”
    “I shall send him away,” said Prince Kirov, his brows lowering as he glanced at the approaching young gentleman.
    Megan laid her hand quickly on his arm. “No, pray do not. He is but a youth, easily cast down. I do not wish him disappointed on my account, for I promised the country set to him.”
    Prince Kirov smiled. He covered her hand with his own, warming her fingers through the thin fabric of her glove. “Your heart is soft, mademoiselle. Very well. We shall deal gently with Vladimir. I have known him since his cradle. Perhaps he will grow into a man someday, though I have heard his father often despair of it!”
    Megan was grateful that Prince Kirov’s statement was uttered in a low tone and so was not heard by the young gentleman. Unobtrusively she slipped free of Prince Kirov’s handclasp. She smiled at Prince Vladimir, holding out her hand to him. “You are prompt, your highness. The set is not yet begun.”
    “How could I be otherwise when I shall lead out the most beautiful woman in the room?” exclaimed Prince Vladimir, bowing over her fingers.
    “Perhaps there is yet hope,” murmured Prince Kirov.
    “Pardon, Mikhail? Did you address me?” asked Prince Vladimir.
    “No, no, I was but contemplating a thing of astonishment that I must tell to an acquaintance of mine,” said Prince Kirov.
    Megan did not glance at him, afraid that if she did she might laugh. “There is the music striking up now, Prince Vladimir! We must not tarry. Prince Kirov, I shall undoubtedly speak to you later in the evening.”
    Megan saw Prince Vladimir slide a triumphant glance at Prince Kirov as he led her off. He obviously thought he had snatched her from under the nose of one of St. Petersburg’s most respected and eligible parties. Men could be so foolish, she thought as the dancing began.
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Chapter 7
    A week later, Megan was summoned to an audience with her hostess. She knew that it was for a matter of some portent since Princess Kirov, though kindly disposed toward her, was an awe-inspiring personage who did not indulge in comfortable cozes.
    “I shall be down directly,” said Megan to the servant who had relayed the message. The servant bowed and effaced himself from the sitting room. When he had exited, Megan turned to her companion. “Well, Gwyneth, what do you think?”
    “Her highness does not dally in incidentals,” said Mrs. Tyler, confirming Megan’s own thoughts. “Obviously Princess Kirov has news of a serious nature to impart to you. It struck me at once that I was not included in this summons. Perhaps she has had word from Lady O’Connell? Though I cannot imagine what her ladyship might have written that would evolve into a private audience.”
    “Yes, Princess Kirov has always shown you a particular respect,” said Megan with a small frown. “It is odd, indeed.”
    “You would do well not to keep the princess waiting too long,” suggested Mrs. Tyler. “Hers is a formidable personality. We are both aware how thoroughly she despises tardiness in any member of her household.”
    Megan