A Magnificent Match Read Free Page B

consideration.
    Megan knew her mother well. Lady O’Connell concerned herself in her daughter’s affairs only when Megan became something of a distraction to her ladyship’s own pursuit of pleasure. Her ladyship would have sent Megan off to Russia willy-nilly, without giving a thought to wardrobe or funds or protection.
    It was not that Lady O’Connell was particularly a cruel, cold woman. She was simply too vain and self-centered to want to be bothered with anything that did not have to do with herself. So Megan had herself put forward those things that she deemed important to her own well-being. If she did not, who would? And now she was going to tell her favorite person in the world of the treat in store for them.
    With a growing sense of adventure and lively excitement, Megan went downstairs to find her mentor and friend, Mrs. Tyler. She found the trim widow in the parlor, engaged on a new embroidery design.
    Mrs. Tyler was two-and-thirty. When she had been left a widow by an unfortunate road accident, she had discovered herself to be in uncomfortably straitened circumstances. It had been an unlooked-for blessing to have been accepted as Miss O’Connell’s companion and she was highly appreciative of her good fortune. Though her cousin, Lady O’Connell, preferred not to acknowledge her, the daughter had proven to be an easy and surprisingly amicable charge.
    Shutting the door, Megan smiled across the room at her companion. “Gwyneth, I have just been told the most extraordinary thing by her ladyship. I am being sent to Russia to stay with my mother’s friend, Princess Kirov, in the capital of St. Petersburg. And you are to go with me.”
    “Russia?” Mrs. Tyler dropped her embroidery to her lap. She looked at her charge in mingled amusement and dismay. “But isn’t that a very long way from Ireland?”
    “Yes, indeed. Thousands upon thousands of miles,” said Megan cheerfully. “Only think of it, Gwyneth. The whole Russian empire at our feet. We’ll be the toasts of St. Petersburg. It will be a positively grand adventure.”
    “I don’t know that I am the stuff of which an adventuress is made,” said Mrs. Tyler.
    “Oh, Gwyneth, how can you say so?” asked Megan quizzingly. “You are forever reading the latest romances and you followed every word that was printed about the war and the diplomatic intricacies and you have wanted to travel for ages and ages.”
    “Yes, that is as may be,” agreed Mrs. Tyler with a show of spirit. “But it scarcely follows that I wish to be whisked off to the ends of the earth.”
    “Not to the ends of the earth, just to St. Petersburg,” said Megan, sitting down on the silk striped sofa next to the older woman. “Only think, Gwyneth! I shall be brought out into society in St. Petersburg by Princess Kirov and meet all sorts of exotic princes and fascinating people.”
    “That is something, indeed,” said Mrs. Tyler, much struck. Better than anyone, she knew and understood Megan’s frustration at not being allowed the come-out that was a young miss’s introduction into polite society. “St. Petersburg is not London, of course. But I have heard very good things said about the Russian capital. Personages from all over the world visit St. Petersburg at one time or another.”
    “You do see how good it will be for me,” said Megan. “I shall simply waste away another year unless I make the most of this opportunity.”
    “Oh, yes, there is no denying that! It is past time that you were exposed to more society than is to be had here,” agreed Mrs. Tyler. She sighed. “I have always wished that you could have the opportunity to spread your wings. Indeed, I have spoken to her ladyship on more than one occasion on this very subject, but without success. I suspect that her ladyship hopes that you will be as accommodating as Celeste and bestow your hand on one of the local gentry before she is absolutely forced to do something for you.”
    “I have no intention of