Heiress Gone Wild

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  “I imagine she does by now. I left her a note, explaining that I’d departed with you.”

  “And what am I supposed to do with you, in heaven’s name?”

  “What you should have done in the first place.” She took another bite of sandwich as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Be my guardian, as my father wanted.”

  “That’s what I thought I was doing,” he countered, his shock giving way to frustration. “I ensured that you were properly looked after, as any guardian would.”

  Her sound of disdain told him what she thought of that. “You and I have very different notions of what a guardian’s duties entail, Mr. Deverill. Mine, as I already told you, includes taking me to London, giving me a season, and helping me find a husband.”

  “And as I told you, you can’t have a season—not yet. It would be quite inappropriate so soon after your father’s death. As for the rest, I may be your guardian, but I’m damned if I’ll be your matchmaker.”

  “Fine.” She ate the last bite of her sandwich and brushed the crumbs from her fingers onto the tray before she spoke again. “I’ll find my future husband without your help.”

  “It shouldn’t be difficult,” he shot back. “You’ll probably be saddled with half a dozen candidates before we even disembark. The moment word gets out that the daughter of the late silver baron William McGann is on board, you’ll have any number of good-looking scoundrels with no money and bad intentions interested in you.”

  As he spoke, he appreciated that watching over her was a duty he could now not postpone. And given the girl’s smashing looks and immense fortune, he feared it would prove a more hazardous task than protecting a mine had ever been. “When these men discover you haven’t a proper chaperone, they’ll be chasing you all around the ship.”

  “Do you think so?” She smiled, the beautiful innocent. “How delightful.”

  All sorts of ghastly possibilities began flashing through his mind, and it took him a moment to answer. “Hardly that,” he said at last, “since you could find yourself compromised by a shipboard romance and forced into marriage. Do you want to be stuck for life with a fortune hunter?”

  She shrugged as if that was a thing of little consequence. “Any man marrying an heiress like me would expect a substantial dowry. And I can’t condemn my future husband for wanting to spend my fortune when that’s exactly what I’m going to do with it.”

  “I see.” He folded his arms, feeling grimmer than ever. “And just what do you think you’ll be spending it on?”

  “Oh, the usual things,” she answered with a vague wave of her hand as she leaned forward to survey the viands on the tea tray. “Clothes, furs, jewels, carriages, motorcars, redecorating the country house—”

  “You don’t own a country house.”

  “Not yet. But I will.” She took an éclair from the tray and sat back again, tilting her head to one side, still smiling. “I think I’ll buy a yacht as well. And maybe some racehorses. That would be exciting. And I’ll have parties, too—lots and lots of parties. Fabulous, extravagant parties that’ll make the New York Knickerbocker set pea green with envy.” She sighed dreamily and took a bite of éclair.

  “You intend to waste your father’s fortune on frivolities like that?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she countered, not seeming to notice the testy note of his voice. “What else am I supposed to do with it? Watch it sit in the bank while I grow old? What fun is that? Besides, I’d have to be a pretty profligate spender to go through it all. I seem to have oodles of money—that is, if those are any indication.”

  She nodded to the writing desk against the wall where he’d put the financial reports he’d reviewed with Mr. Jessop. He’d placed them in a neat pile, intending to give them another perusal tomorrow, but now they were spread carelessly across the polished rosewood desktop.

  “What’s the Rose of Shoshone?” she asked, regaining his full attention.

  “I’ll ask the questions, thank you.”

  “You’re so testy. Maybe you should have an éclair. Chocolate,” she added, holding up the bit of pastry in her fingers, “can always be counted upon to elevate one’s spirits.”

  Jonathan was in no mood to be elevated. “First, you leave the safety of Mrs. Forsyte’s and sneak aboard this ship, then you burst into my room without leave and read my private correspondence? My God, for someone who’s lived such a sheltered life, you’re a brazen little baggage, I’ll give you that.”

  “What I read wasn’t private,” she objected, not seeming the least bit put out by his description of her. “My father’s will, an accounting of the money he left to me, and reports on the investments made on my behalf are documents I have every right to read, particularly since my own guardian didn’t bother to inform me of the terms of my inheritance before he took off.”

  “There wasn’t time. I had a train to catch. And—”

  “Oh, please,” she interrupted before he could point out that Mr. Jessop would have been able to explain the terms of the will and the extent of her property. “Don’t try to justify yourself. What you did was run away.”

  “That’s absurd.” He shifted his weight, feeling the sudden, inconvenient prick of his conscience.

  “And,” she added before he could fashion some sort of reply, “I didn’t ‘sneak’ anywhere. I’m no stowaway. I bought my passage, like anyone else. Not a grand parlor suite like this, of course. With my savings, an inside cabin was all I could afford. Still, it is in first class.” She ate the last bite of her éclair and picked up the teapot. “Would you care for tea?”

  “I don’t need any bloody tea!”

  She set aside the pot and looked at him again. “Hmm,” she said, frowning thoughtfully, “I think you’re right. You look as if what you need is a good, stiff drink. And,” she added, glancing over him, “perhaps some clothes.”

  Jonathan followed her gaze, realizing in horror as he looked down that he was wearing nothing but a knee-length dressing robe. In front of his new ward. Billy’s daughter. “Christ almighty.”

  He strode over to where she sat, bent down, and grabbed her by the elbows, his only thought to get her out of his stateroom, but the moment he hauled her to her feet, he realized his mistake, for the move brought her body right up against his, and as her full breasts brushed his chest, he was forcibly reminded that his ward was well past pinafores. And that under his robe, he was naked. And that he hadn’t had a woman in a long, long time.

  Desperate, he stepped back to put some much-needed distance between them, but he did not let her go. Instead, he turned, gripping her hard by the elbow. “You have to get out of here,” he said as he propelled her across the sitting room of his suite. “Now.”

  “But I haven’t finished my tea.”

  Ignoring that bit of nonsense, Jonathan halted by the door and, still keeping a firm grip on her, he reached for the handle. “Yes, you have.”

  “You really want me to leave?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly as he yanked the door open. After sticking his head out to verify that no one was in sight, he shoved her across the threshold and into the corridor.

  “Are you sure?” She turned around, flattening her palm against the door as he moved to close it. “You want me going about the ship unchaperoned, with so many fortune hunters and scoundrels with bad intentions on board?”

  With an oath, Jonathan hauled her back inside and shut the door. Letting her go, he took a long step backward as he strove to regain his equilibrium and think—not an easy thing to do when he was barely clothed and the skin of his chest still burned from the light, inconsequential brush of her breast and his promises to take care of Billy’s little girl were ringing in his ears.

  “Sit down,” he ordered and turned away, walking toward his bedroom. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t touch anything. And if you value your life, stay away from my private papers.”

  Slamming the door of his bedroom behind him, he leaned back against it with a gro
an and wondered what he was going to do with her now. What did a man do with a beautiful, disobedient, fully grown, and damned inconvenient ward?

  Hurling himself over the side of the ship came to mind, making him appreciate just what serious trouble he was in. If he was already contemplating drastic measures like that after half a day in charge of her life, what state was he going to be in a week from now when they docked at Southampton?

  Jonathan didn’t even want to think about it.

  The bedroom door had scarcely closed behind him before Marjorie was laughing, and she had to bury her face in a sofa cushion to keep him from hearing it.

  Oh, his shock when he’d seen her sitting here had been priceless. And when she’d rattled on about not caring if she married a fortune hunter and how she intended to spend her inheritance, he’d looked so appalled, she still didn’t know how she’d managed to keep a straight face. And when she’d pointed out he was only partially dressed . . . oh, heavens.

  That memory sent Marjorie into another fit of laughter, and she buried her face harder into the sofa cushion, her shoulders shaking. She’d thought having a guardian would be tedious, but she was beginning to think she’d been wrong. Just now, she found having a guardian vastly entertaining.

  She shouldn’t, she supposed, take such delight in teasing him, but he deserved it after the way he’d abandoned her, and she was enjoying her revenge so much that it was several moments more before Marjorie was able to contain her amusement at his expense.

  At last, however, her sides aching, she sat up with a deep sigh, brushed back the stray tendrils of hair from her forehead, and returned her attention to the tea tray.

  He must think her a fool, she thought, shaking her head as she selected a cucumber sandwich from the tray. Racehorses, indeed. She did mean to enjoy herself, but she wasn’t about to be so silly with her money as that. Of course, fortune hunters would be swarming around her like flies—she’d already figured that out for herself, thank you. And despite her guardian’s fears, she had no intention of allowing herself to be compromised and forced into marriage with a man who was only out for her money.

  Still, she supposed she couldn’t blame Mr. Deverill for being concerned, since he didn’t know she’d already taken precautions of her own. It would be best, she thought, meditatively munching her sandwich, if she explained that and allayed his fears as soon as possible. Otherwise, the poor man might have apoplexy.

  That decision had barely crossed her mind before the bedroom door opened and the object of her thoughts—properly dressed this time—reentered the sitting room.

  She studied him as he crossed to the tea tray. He seemed over the initial surprise of finding her on board, but the expression on his face confirmed her initial impression of him, and Marjorie was glad she’d waited until the Neptune was safely out to sea before she’d come in search of him.

  Fortified by the reminder that he couldn’t send her back, Marjorie spoke first. “So, what happens now?”

  He poured milk into his cup, added tea, dropped in two lumps of sugar, and stirred the contents before he replied. “For you?” he said at last. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “When we’re finished here, you will return to your cabin, where you will remain for the duration of the voyage.”

  Any lingering vestiges of Marjorie’s earlier amusement vanished. “You must be joking.”

  He smiled at her, but there was an edge to it that showed he wasn’t joking at all. “I will arrange for your meals to be delivered to you. And I’ll send some books along as well. That way, you’ll have something to occupy your mind besides attempting to get the better of me.”

  “But this is my first sea voyage. I’ve never traveled anywhere in my life until now. You can’t—”

  “Had you exercised some degree of patience and remained where you were until I could make proper arrangements for you, your first sea voyage would have proven much more enjoyable.”

  “It would also have been delayed by at least eight more months!”

  His wide shoulders lifted then fell in an uncaring shrug. “Nonetheless, when you disobey your guardian, there are consequences.”

  “So, I am to be confined to my room like a misbehaving child, am I?” she countered. “Shall I have to go to bed without any supper, too?”

  “By following me, you have put yourself in a precarious position. I may be your guardian, but I am not a relation, and because I am a man, I am limited in my ability to watch over you.”

  “I’m on a ship full of people. What do you imagine could happen to endanger me?”

  “It isn’t just your physical safety that I am thinking of. I am also very concerned with protecting your reputation, even if you are not.”

  The implication that she didn’t care about her reputation caused Marjorie’s temper to flare, but she tamped it down with an effort, knowing her wisest course was simply to set him straight. “If you’re concerned one of those dastardly fortune hunters shall attempt to compromise me aboard ship, you needn’t be. I have already arranged—”

  “Gentlemen are not the only danger. If you are seen going about alone, the curiosity of the ladies will be aroused. It won’t take long for them to learn your identity, and if you are seen dining by yourself or strolling unaccompanied on the promenade deck, you will at once be deemed a fast little piece.”

  “Yes, but I won’t be alone. I—”

  “Yes, you will, because as I explained earlier today, I cannot escort you. We are both unmarried, and if we are seen traveling together with no chaperone, people will think the worst of it.”

  Marjorie tried once again to explain. “Yes, but you see—”

  “Every British matron seeks to find out all she can about her traveling companions to be sure she is not among the wrong sort of people. We won’t be halfway to Southampton before we are judged and condemned.”

  With that, Marjorie gave up any attempts to explain that—not being an idiot—she’d already foreseen and taken precautions against all these dangers. “And as I said, your wishes would have put my new life much too far into the future.”

  “And you think following me to London is going to change that? The next eleven months aren’t going to be any different for you merely because you moved across the pond.”

  She frowned, her frustration supplanted by bafflement and dread. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re in mourning, Miss McGann. In England or America, at least six months of seclusion is expected.”

  “I’ve been in seclusion most of my life. I have no intention of continuing that way any longer.”

  “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit?”

  “Am I? I watched all my friends leave Forsyte Academy and go on with their lives while I remained behind. They have done the London season, danced with dukes, and dined with princes. Many of them have fallen in love, married, and made exciting lives for themselves. I, meanwhile, have gone nowhere and done nothing. I’m an heiress, too, but for all the good it’s done me, I might as well be poor. Why do you think I saved every penny I could of my allowance and my teacher’s salary? Even before my father died, I’d intended to escape. I was about to begin making my own arrangements so that when I turned twenty-one, I could leave Forsyte Academy.”

  “And go where?”

  Marjorie met his confounded stare with a hard one of her own. “Well, not to my father, since I didn’t even know where he was.”

  He looked away, a clear sign her words made him uncomfortable, but she was in no frame of mind to care about that right now. “When the two of you left Idaho, no one would tell me where you’d gone. Mrs. Forsyte said she didn’t know, and Mr. Jessop refused to say, suggesting I send any letters through him. My father, he said, was moving about and difficult to reach—a lie a child could see through.”

  “It wasn’t a lie—at least,” he amended when she gave him a skeptical look, “not until he went into the sanitorium.”

&
nbsp; “Another thing no one saw fit to tell me.” Her voice rose a fraction—the aggravation of having been kept continually in the dark by those who thought they were protecting her. “So, I made my own plans to join my friends in England. Most of them are married now, and I knew one of them would agree to chaperone me there.”

  “And what did you intend to do for money?”

  “I was gambling on the fact that even my scapegrace of a father wouldn’t allow me to be destitute in another country. Once the deed was done, he’d have to have Mr. Jessop give me a bigger allowance and a dowry. But then, he died. I didn’t even know he was sick—” She broke off, startled at the failing of her own voice, frustrated by the lump that rose in her throat.

  “My father is gone,” she managed after a moment, shoving down any stupid sentiments about her useless parent. “I now have the chance for a life of my own choosing. Did you really think I’d be willing to wait?”

  “What I thought was that you would have the sense to stay put until I had things arranged for you.”

  “In other words, you thought I’d do what I’m told and let you—a perfect stranger—decide what’s best for me?”

  “As your father relied upon me to do. I will not break my word because you have an unaccountable desire to defy me, propriety, and common sense.”

  Marjorie could have told him she hadn’t even begun to be defiant yet, but she refrained. “So, keeping me hidden away is how you intend to bring me to heel? What shall you do when we reach London? Lock me in an attic?”

  “I hope you won’t make it necessary.”

  Marjorie stared at him, appalled. “All the way until August? You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I should advise you not to test me on what I would and would not dare, Miss McGann. And I’m not sure what you think August has to do with anything.”

  She frowned. “Because that’s when I turn twenty-one.”

  “Just so,” he agreed, nodding. “What of it?”

  “A woman comes of age at twenty-one.”