All her illusions about a life with her parent had come crashing down, and she’d realized she would have to make a life for herself without him.
She had accepted Mrs. Forsyte’s suggestion to stay on at the school as a teacher, but it hadn’t been long before letters from Marjorie’s school friends had provided her with a new, much more exciting alternative, one that could give her the home and family she craved and did not involve asking anything of her wayward parent except a dowry.
Like herself, many Forsyte graduates were the daughters of New Money millionaires. Shut out of New York society and desperate for a place to belong, some of them had gone to England upon graduation, in search of titled husbands and a new life. Inspired by their example, thrilled by their descriptions of British society, Marjorie had decided on a new destiny for herself, never dreaming that her father’s death and his British partner would provide her with the perfect means to achieve it.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she murmured. “But what happens now? Before sending me to you,” she rushed on, “Mrs. Forsyte informed me you are going to London?” When he nodded, she felt a surge of relief. “Perfect. Just what I was hoping.”
His mouth tipped at one corner in a sardonic curve. “Terribly eager to get rid of your new guardian, I see. Well, I can’t say I blame you.”
“Get rid of you?” she echoed, bewildered. “Hardly, since I’m coming with you.”
He stared at her as if she was crazy. “That’s not possible.”
“But . . .” She paused, suddenly uneasy. “I don’t understand. When Mr. Jessop said you were coming, I thought it was to take me with you to London.”
He sighed. “It’s clear we’ve both been laboring under some misapprehensions. I am only in London for a brief visit with my sisters, then I must go to South Africa.”
“South Africa?” Marjorie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Your trust fund has a great deal of money in South African investments, and there’s talk of war breaking out between the British and the Boers before the end of the year. If that happens, those investments could become worthless. I must investigate the situation and decide what to do with those investments before that happens.”
Marjorie refused to have a perfect plan spoiled by international squabbles. England was just the place for girls like her, girls who had heaps of money but no position or place. And she knew he had sisters with aristocratic connections. Mrs. Forsyte had told her so. Surely, they could be prevailed upon to help her enter British society. The fact that her guardian himself would be on another continent was, to her mind, the icing on the cake.
“Well, if you want to go to Africa while I’m in London,” she said, giving him her most charming smile, “I won’t object.”
“As I said, it’s not possible for you to accompany me. You must remain here for the time being.”
“Here?” She sobered at once. “You’re joking. You must be.”
“I’m afraid not. An unmarried man and a young, unmarried woman cannot travel alone together, and since my ship sails tonight, I’ve no time to find a suitable chaperone for you. Speaking of time—”
He broke off, pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket, and flipped it open. “I must go, if I’m to catch my train.”
“You’re leaving?” This could not be happening. “Already?”
“I must,” he answered, his relief at the fact painfully obvious as he tucked his watch back in his pocket. “I have to meet with Mr. Jessop about your estate before my ship sails. I’ve brought your father’s belongings to you. He didn’t have much in the way of personal effects, but—”
“I don’t want his things.” She could hear the sharp edge to her voice as she spoke, and so could he, for he frowned a little. Whether he was puzzled by her response or disapproving of it, she didn’t care. “I’ve no use for them.”
“Very well, but I will leave them here, in case you change your mind.”
She wouldn’t, but she was too preoccupied with the real problem to argue about trivialities. She’d never considered that his purpose in coming could be anything other than to take her away from here, and she was at a loss for what to do next.
“I will write, of course,” he went on as she considered her options, “but if there’s anything you need while I’m away, contact Mr. Jessop. And don’t worry. We will make proper arrangements for you when I return. It’s been delightful meeting you, Miss McGann.”
“Wait,” she cried as he bowed and stepped around her to depart. “You can’t just leave me here.”
“I’m afraid I must. But it’s only temporary,” he added over his shoulder as he paused by the coat tree to retrieve his hat. “This afternoon, Mr. Jessop and I will discuss what’s to be done for the best, and I will inform you of the details of our discussions in my first letter.”
“But I already know what’s best for me,” she replied, starting toward him as he donned his hat and turned to face her. “Just because you arrived here thinking I was a child, it isn’t necessary for you to treat me like one.”
“Forgive me,” he said somberly, then immediately spoiled his apology by qualifying it. “But I didn’t even know of your existence until a month ago, and from what your father told me at that point, I assumed you were a schoolgirl. The fact that you are instead a woman grown makes things much more complicated. Different arrangements will now have to be made for you, and that will take time.”
Marjorie didn’t have much experience dealing with the opposite sex, but she had enough experience with the evasions of children to recognize when a grown man was doing it. “How lovely to know I’m so important that you could spare me half an hour on your way from one side of the globe to the other. Since you intend to just leave me here, I wonder that you bothered to come at all. You could have shipped my father’s things and sent me a letter. Wouldn’t that have sufficed?”
“It certainly would have been more convenient,” he said dryly, ignoring her sarcasm. “But that would not have been commensurate with my responsibilities.”
“That’s rich,” she muttered. “You, talking of responsibilities as you walk away from them.”
Her words seemed to hit a nerve, for he stiffened. “It can’t be helped. As I said, I thought you were a child still in school. My reason for coming was simply to meet you, make the acquaintance of the headmistress, and reassure myself that you are well situated for the time being.”
“But I’m not.”
“No? Are you neglected here? Abused? Mistreated?”
Marjorie stared at him helplessly, a sick knot forming in her stomach as she realized there was no answer he’d accept. A guardian wouldn’t consider that she lived like a cloistered nun any sort of mistreatment. Quite the opposite.
Think, Marjorie, she ordered herself. Think how to make him change his mind and take you with him.
“It isn’t a matter of mistreatment,” she said at last. “Mrs. Forsyte has always been very kind. But I’m twenty years old. It’s time I left here and made a life of my own, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. As I said, I will discuss the situation with Mr. Jessop, and while I am away, I will consider his advice and decide what’s to be done with you.”
Marjorie took a deep breath, trying to set aside her disappointment and face what might be an unavoidable delay. “And how long will you be gone?”
“Eight months, perhaps. It’s hard to say with things in South Africa so unstable—”
“Eight months?” Marjorie interrupted, too appalled by that estimate to be polite. “Eight months?”
“I wish I could be more definite, but I can’t, not until I’ve assessed the situation. I will return as quickly as possible, I promise you.”
To her mind, eight months was anything but a quick return, and given that she’d be spending that time in the staid environs where she’d already spent two-thirds of her life, it seemed an eternity. She’d made the best of things here, and she enjoyed teaching, but it was
n’t what she wanted for her life.
She wanted to do what her school friends had done. She wanted to make her come-out, go to balls and parties, and meet young men. She wanted romance, courtship, marriage to a man who loved her, and children of her own. She wanted a home, a family, and a place to belong. She wanted . . . damn it all, she wanted to be wanted.
Desperate, she tried again. “Why can’t I just go with you to London now? I could make my debut, enjoy the season—oh, why not?” she burst out in frustration as he shook his head.
“Miss McGann, I appreciate that you want the amusements of good society, and you shall have them, I promise. But such things must wait.”
“But the London season is starting now. It’s the perfect time to make my come-out, find a husband. I might be like some of my friends,” she added, sidetracked for a moment by all the delicious romantic possibilities ahead, “and marry a man with a title and estates—”
His groan cut her off. “What is it about titles that you Americans find so alluring? They’re meaningless drivel.”
“But they’re not. A titled husband gives a girl like me a position, something I could never have here in New York, no matter how much money my father left me.”
“Even so, it’s far too soon to be discussing such things. You’re in mourning, hardly the time to be enjoying the London season. The mourning period is an interlude of seclusion and grief.”
Marjorie could have told him she’d had plenty of seclusion already. She also could have said she had no intention of spending any time grieving for a man who’d left her over thirteen years ago and who she hadn’t seen since, a man who had never spared much consideration for her anyway. But because her new guardian was already impatient to be gone, she restrained herself. The crucial thing was that he not leave her behind.
“I can mourn just as well in London as I can here,” she said, trying to sound reasonable and dutiful. “I could stay with your sisters. Surely a duchess and a viscountess would be appropriate chaperones.”
“Chaperoning a girl, even one in mourning, is a serious responsibility. My sisters must be given the chance to decide freely if they want to take it on, especially for a girl they’ve never met, an American girl who knows nothing of British life, an heiress wealthy enough to fall prey to fortune hunters. I have not seen my sisters for ten years, Miss McGann, and I have no intention of greeting them after all that time by imposing the burden of your care upon them without first obtaining their consent and willing cooperation.”
She was a burden. Of course she was. Her father’s neglect had told her that long ago, and yet, it stung to hear it said aloud. Marjorie looked away, blinking hard, frustration dissolving into despair. “Nothing’s changed,” she said. “I’m still stuck in limbo, watching life pass by while I sit here growing old.”
“There’s no need to be melodramatic. Eight months isn’t all that long, and the time will pass more quickly for you here at Forsyte Academy, where you have a vocation. And it’s not as if you won’t have plenty of time to enjoy life. You’re only twenty.”
“I’m nearly twenty-one. A year from now I’ll be on the verge of spinsterhood.”
For some reason, that made him smile. “You’ll have no trouble finding a husband when the time comes. Especially one with a title,” he added, his smile taking on a cynical curve. “Believe me, the peers of England will find your fat American dowry just as desirable next season as they would this one.”
Marjorie had no intention of marrying a man who wanted her just for her money. She wanted love, too, and she saw no reason why she couldn’t have both, but her new guardian spoke again before she could clarify that vital point.
“Naturally, an heiress such as yourself requires a proper position, and your mourning period gives us the time to create one for you. If Mr. Jessop and I decide a London season is appropriate, and provided my sisters are willing to launch you, I will arrange for you to make your debut next year. We can discuss these plans in detail when I come back for you.”
When I come back . . .
Those words harkened to her from the past, the exact same words her father had spoken to her when she was seven years old, the last words he’d ever said to her in person.
When I come back . . .
He never had. And now, he never would.
Pain flared up inside Marjorie, pain and anger, emotions so hot and so fierce that she had to fold her arms tight across her ribs to hold them in check.
She would not cry, she vowed, not for a man who in thirteen years had barely spared her a thought. And she would not be abandoned again, clinging to hopes of a someday that never came.
“I’m sure you’re disappointed,” he said in the wake of her silence, the gentleness of his voice like salt in her wounds. “And, believe it or not, I know how it feels when all one’s dreams seem to have been snatched away. But I won’t let that happen to you. We will see you properly settled, but you must be patient while I determine the best way to make that happen.”
Marjorie wasn’t about to let any man, even her guardian, decide what was best for her, especially when said man didn’t seem the least bit inclined to solicit her opinions on the subject. Still, she could see that his mind was made up and arguing would be pointless, so she heaved a sigh of feigned resignation as she set her brains to work on a new plan. “I suppose you’re right. You’d better go, for you don’t want to miss that train.”
“Is there anything you need before I depart? Do you have pin money?”
“An allowance? Mr. Jessop sends me ten dollars a month.”
“Is that all?”
She didn’t tell him it was more than enough. She hadn’t spent even a fraction of her allowance in the years she’d been here, for what was there to spend it on? “I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll arrange a larger allowance for you when I meet with Mr. Jessop. You’ll begin receiving it straightaway.”
Marjorie gazed at him with every appearance of gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. It’s the least I can do.”
“You will write?” she asked, clasping her hands together, trying to look the part of the forbearing little woman.
“Every month. And if you need to reach me, contact Mr. Jessop. He will know how to find me.”
“You sail tonight, you said? Safe travels, Mr. Deverill,” she added when he nodded. “I hope you’re on one of the White Star ships? I’ve heard they are very fine.”
“It’s a Cunard ship, actually. The Neptune, I believe. Now, I really must be off.”
She held out her hand, expecting him to shake it, but to her surprise, he bowed over it instead, lifting it to his lips, and despite that she found her new guardian both uncooperative and obtuse, she also felt an unmistakable thrill when his lips brushed her knuckles.
A kiss on the hand might be a trivial thing to most young ladies, but it was the first remotely romantic thing that had ever happened to her, and it underscored all the reasons why she wasn’t about to wait any longer for her life to begin.
“Farewell, Miss McGann,” he said as he let go of her hand. “We shall meet again soon.”
With that, he turned away, stepped into the corridor, and started toward the stairs.
“We certainly will, Mr. Deverill,” she murmured softly, leaning through the doorway, her gaze narrowing on his broad back as he walked away. “And far sooner than you think.”
Chapter 3
“You can understand my shock.”
“Yes, indeed.” Arthur Jessop handed Jonathan a tumbler of whiskey and sank down on the opposite end of the leather sofa in his office with his own glass. “It was very wrong of Mr. McGann to appoint you guardian without telling you all the details. We did advise him to do so. I thought he had.”
“He didn’t,” Jonathan answered, turning to face the other man. “Billy never even mentioned having a daughter until his dying moments, and from what he said then, I assumed she was a child. To discover she’s a grown woman—”
He broke off, an image of his new ward’s shapely figure and stunning face flashing across his mind, and he took a hefty swallow of whiskey. “As I said, it was a shock.”
“And her age changes your perception of your responsibilities, does it?”
Jonathan cast him an unhappy look. “Doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it does. And you feel it’s more than you can take on?”
God, yes.
He didn’t say those words aloud, however. Tempting as it was to dump this entire mess in the lap of the girl’s other trustee, loyalty and obligation to his late friend restrained him. He’d made Billy a promise, and there was no question of breaking it. “Billy McGann was like a brother to me,” he said instead. “And I will do whatever I can for his daughter. But . . .”
“But . . . ?” Mr. Jessop prompted when Jonathan paused.
“I cannot help questioning how suited I am for this. A child in school is one thing. A woman coming of age is something else. Even Mrs. Forsyte expressed doubts about the arrangement.”
“Yes, yes,” Jessop said, a reply Jonathan found terribly frustrating. Didn’t the fellow have any useful advice?
“She wanted to come to London,” he said, rather relishing the way the lawyer stiffened. “With me, now, tonight.”
“That would be most precipitate. Not to mention improper. She’s in mourning.”
“She doesn’t seem to care about that. She wants to do the season and find a husband,” Jonathan went on mercilessly, sensing the other man’s disapproval. “One with a title, if possible.”
“You shall have to look into any suitors with great care, particularly the titled gentlemen she would meet during a London season. I don’t wish to offend you, Mr. Deverill, but I’ve found that most of these British lords who marry our American heiresses have mercenary motives.”
“Oh, I’m not offended, and I agree. I have no illusions about the aristocracy, believe me.”
The lawyer relaxed. “I’m relieved to hear you say that, though I’m a bit surprised. I understood that your late mother was the daughter of a viscount?”
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