“One more step,” he called, “and I will inform the purser of the liberties you take with his table arrangements.”
She stopped, heaved a sigh, and turned around. “You’re mad,” she said with an air of aristocratic dignity that was almost convincing. “I have no idea what you are raving about.”
“Spare me protestations of innocence, madam.” He reached into the breast pocket of his evening jacket and pulled out his notecase. “They are futile and unnecessary.”
She stared as he opened the case and pulled out a handful of notes. “How much did the count offer you for tonight’s little escapade?” he asked as he began counting dollars.
“I—I—” She broke off any stuttering attempts at denial when he paused and looked up. “One thousand dollars.”
He lifted a brow at the sum, rather impressed by the count’s thoroughness. “I suppose anything worth doing is worth doing well,” he murmured as he resumed counting. “And how much has he offered for you to arrange an assignation between him and my ward that would be witnessed by others?”
The baroness made a sound of outrage, causing Jonathan to pause.
“Really, baroness,” he said in amusement, “I thought I’d made it clear there’s no need for pretenses between us now.”
“I make no pretense. Allow a man to compromise a young lady to ruin her? Never would I do such a thing. Never!”
“Your scruples prohibit it, do they?”
“I would not do what you say. Rearrange a few place settings? Yes, why not? Encourage the girl to consider his suit? Yes, perhaps. But open her to scandal and shame? No, I would not ever do that.”
She was so vehement that Jonathan couldn’t help being impressed. “You’re a better actress than I gave you credit for. But let’s not argue. Believe me, it’s better for you to place your bets on me than on de la Rosa. More lucrative, too.”
He folded the wad of notes he’d counted and held them out. “Here is five hundred dollars. See me tomorrow, and I shall pay you a thousand more. You will also have an additional thousand when we reach London, if you do as I say. Betray me,” he added, pulling his hand back when she stretched out hers to take the money, “and not only will you not be paid the remainder, I will hound you, and ruin you, and drive you out of any position you may have somehow managed to carve for yourself in good society. Is that clear?”
“Yes.” She pulled the money from his fingers. “What is it you want me to do, Englishman?”
Lady Stansbury, sadly, was a much less entertaining conversationalist than Baroness Vasiliev. The Count de la Rosa seemed to share Marjorie’s opinion of the Englishwoman, for after the baroness had excused herself with a discreet murmur in Marjorie’s ear about needing to visit the ladies’ withdrawing room, the count had managed to tolerate just a few minutes of Lady Stansbury’s conversation about the breeding of terriers for ratting before remembering a promise to join his friends in the cardroom. Wistfully, Marjorie had watched him escape, trying to take some consolation in the long, lingering glance of admiration and regret the count had given her over his shoulder as he left.
In the wake of his departure, several of Lady Stansbury’s elderly friends joined Marjorie and the countess, and the subject of terriers was abandoned. That brought Marjorie no relief, however, for the conversation somehow became centered on the moral laxness of young people nowadays.
This discussion was accompanied by several glances at the low neckline of Marjorie’s evening gown, making her feel terribly self-conscious, and it was a struggle not to squirm under their disapproving scrutiny. She also began to feel the effects of her three glasses of wine, and when the conversation turned to what constituted a proper herbaceous border—whatever that was—she almost fell asleep in her chair. When the baroness finally returned, Marjorie’s relief was so great, she wanted to hug the Russian woman in gratitude.
Hoping to spare herself any more discussion of alstroemerias and verbascums, she stood up. Expressing the wish for a bit of fresh air, she suggested to the baroness that they take a stroll on the promenade deck before bed, but the other woman shook her head in refusal.
“Forgive me,” she said and reached for her evening bag, “but I do not feel well and must return to my cabin. Lady Stansbury, would you be so kind as to escort Marjorie to her stateroom when you retire?”
She turned away without another word, and Marjorie frowned in bewildered concern. “Whatever is the matter, I wonder?”
“Probably ate something that didn’t agree,” the countess commented.
Marjorie wasn’t quite satisfied by that explanation, nor did she have any intention of being stuck here with Lady Stansbury on her own. “Perhaps,” she murmured. “But if you will forgive me, ladies, I think I should go with the baroness and make sure she’s all right. After that, I shall retire to my own cabin for the night.”
“If you’re going after the baroness, you’d better hurry,” the countess advised, glancing past Marjorie’s shoulder.
Turning her head, Marjorie was surprised to find the baroness already starting up the grand staircase. She rose, slung her wrap around her shoulders, and reached for her bag, then mumbled a quick farewell, dipped a curtsy, and followed as quickly as she could.
Ascending a staircase in a tight-fitting gown, however, wasn’t easy, and by the time Marjorie reached the top of the stairs, the baroness had already turned down the corridor that led to the first-class staterooms. Marjorie quickened her steps, but she was only halfway to the corridor before she heard a voice calling her name, and when she turned her head, she saw Jonathan coming through the doors that led out onto the promenade.
“Hullo,” he greeted as he joined her. “What are you doing up here? I thought you’d be with the other ladies in the dining room.”
“I was, but the baroness seems to have taken ill, and I want to be sure it isn’t anything serious.”
They turned into the corridor together just in time to see Baroness Vasiliev stepping into her room.
“Baroness?” Marjorie called, causing the other woman to pause in the doorway. “Are you all right?”
“I shall be,” she answered, giving them an abstracted smile. “I’m sure I soon shall be.”
“We all hope so, of course,” Jonathan murmured.
“Is it a headache?” Marjorie asked. “If so, a poultice of ice and salt applied to the head works wonders. Shall I call a ship’s maid to make you one?”
“No, no.” Baroness Vasiliev shook her head. “That is very sweet of you, but all I need is sleep.”
“Then we shan’t keep you,” Jonathan said politely. “Good night.”
With a nod of farewell, the baroness went inside her cabin.
“Well, that was awfully sudden,” Marjorie commented as the door closed behind the other woman. “I do hope she’ll be all right.”
“She’s probably just tired. What about you?” he asked before she could reply.
“I think I’ll go to bed as well.”
“You don’t wish to rejoin the other ladies?” he asked, falling in step beside her as she started down the corridor to her own room.
“Did you think I would?” she asked, giving him a wry look. “If you are going to set watchdogs upon me, you might at least make them interesting company.”
A smile twitched his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Well, yes, perhaps, I do,” he conceded as they paused before her door and she opened her evening bag to retrieve her passkey. “And since we’re on the topic of the company you keep, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He sounded so grave that Marjorie paused in unlocking the door and looked at him. “Something about the baroness?”
“Yes, indirectly, but I’m actually referring to that scoundrel, de la Rosa.”
“Him again?” She groaned and resumed unlocking her door. “Just because he ‘makes your boot itch,’ as you put it, that doesn’t prove he’s a scoundrel.”
>
“No, but what I witnessed earlier this evening does.”
With an air of long suffering, she returned her key to her bag and snapped it shut. “What did you see him do?” she asked. “Drink too much wine with dinner? Lose too much money at the card table?”
“He paid the baroness for an introduction to you, and for her to arrange the seating so that you would be beside him.”
“He did?” Marjorie laughed. “How clever of him. And what a compliment to me.”
He blinked as if disconcerted, making it clear her reaction wasn’t quite the one he’d been expecting. “You think what he did was a compliment?”
“Of course! From the sound of it, he went to a great deal of trouble. Any girl would find that flattering.”
“His intentions are more nefarious than gaining your company for dinner.”
“You don’t know that. In fact, how do you even know that he did this at all? Or that the baroness was involved?”
“After dinner, I saw her go by the smoking room, and then I saw the count coming hard on her heels. I was curious, so I followed them. I overheard them talking—”
“So, we can add eavesdropping on other people’s conversations to the list of things I can expect from you?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you from bad company, then yes. The count is on the hunt for an heiress, just as I suspected, and he’s been paying the baroness to assist him with introductions. Neither of them can be trusted, but the count is the real danger. His intention is to win your hand by any means, however dishonorable.”
“That may be clear to you, but it isn’t to me. Wrangling for an introduction and having a few seats rearranged seems rather flimsy evidence to condemn a man’s entire character.”
“A true gentleman doesn’t need to pay for such things.”
“I don’t doubt that a true lady would be offended by such conduct, but since no man has ever had any intentions about me, dishonorable or otherwise, I just can’t work up the proper amount of ladylike outrage to condemn him for it. I appreciate the warning, but I shall reserve judgement for now.”
“Just don’t ever allow yourself to be alone with him.”
“I don’t intend to,” she said with dignity. Shoving open her door, she stepped inside her cabin and turned to face him again. “That’s why I hired myself a chaperone in the first place.”
“One who now seems ill and unable to fulfill her duties.”
“I’m sure the baroness will be fine tomorrow,” she cut in before he could suggest any more nonsense about her staying in her room. “Good night.”
With that, she shut the door between them, and she could only hope the baroness’s illness was temporary, because staying in her room for the next six days was just not an option she was willing to consider.
The following morning, however, Marjorie’s hopes for the baroness’s quick recovery were futile, a fact she learned from a most unlikely source.
“Seasick?” Through the doorway of her cabin, Marjorie stared at Lady Stansbury in dismay. “The baroness is seasick?”
“I’m afraid so.” The countess shook her head sadly. “If she’d eaten a few digestive biscuits when she first came aboard, she’d be right as rain, but now it’s too late. She’ll just have to lie abed until it passes.”
“How awful. Will she be ill for long, do you think?”
“Who can say? Some people find their sea legs in a day or two, while others spend the whole voyage in bed. At present, the poor woman’s quite indisposed.”
“I see. Well, um . . . thank you, my lady,” Marjorie murmured, uncertain what else to say. “It was thoughtful of you to inform me of the situation.”
Most people would have taken those words as an end to the conversation, but the countess was oblivious to such subtleties.
Instead of departing, she smiled and leaned through the doorway to pat Marjorie’s arm. “You mustn’t worry, my dear. Your guardian and I have discussed the situation and made all the arrangements.”
“What arrangements?”
“With the baroness ill, Mr. Deverill has asked me to step in.”
A feeling of dismay began settling in Marjorie’s stomach. “You are to be my chaperone until the baroness recovers?”
“Yes, indeed. Won’t that be lovely?”
“Lovely” wasn’t how Marjorie would have put it. “How kind you are,” she said instead, forcing a smile. “But—”
“I’m happy to do it. Having raised four daughters of my own, I know just how crucial it is for a girl to have strict guidance and strong support at all times. Now,” she added before Marjorie could ponder just how strict the said guidance was likely to be, “I’ve already spoken with ship’s housekeeping, and they will have your things moved into my suite by luncheon.”
Marjorie cursed herself for ever opening her door. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I am very comfortable here in my own cabin.”
Lady Stansbury laughed, dismissing any possibility that she could remain here. “You can’t stay in a cabin by yourself, my dear. It’s unthinkable. What the baroness was about to allow such an arrangement, I can’t imagine.”
Marjorie murmured something vague about a mistake in the reservations and how the purser was to arrange for her and the baroness to move into adjoining cabins today.
“Ah, well, that explains things, I suppose,” Lady Stansbury said dubiously. “In any case, with the baroness ill, it’s been decided you’ll stay with me for the rest of the voyage.”
Marjorie didn’t have to ask whose decision that had been.
“Now,” the countess continued, “I understand you’ve brought no maid with you? That’s all right,” she added as Marjorie shook her head. “My maid can easily attend you.”
“I shouldn’t wish to be any trouble,” Marjorie began, feeling a bit desperate.
“Nonsense. How much trouble could you be? You’re in mourning, so you won’t be needing to change your ensemble multiple times a day. In fact, I don’t see that you’ll be going about the ship very much at all. I hope you brought your needlework?”
Marjorie, who hated needlework, shook her head.
“Ah, well, my friends and I have plenty to keep you occupied. No idle hands in our set,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve formed a little circle for the voyage. Embroidery, knitting, a bit of gossip, that sort of thing. We’re far too old for shuffleboard and such things. And since you shan’t be doing any of those things either, it’s perfect for you to join us. And you can make yourself useful in so many ways—fetching things, you know, and reading aloud, threading needles, and winding wool.”
“How lovely.”
The countess missed the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. “In grief, it’s so important, I think, for one to keep busy.” She smiled, giving Marjorie’s arm another pat. “So, you see? You won’t be an inconvenience to anyone.”
When it came to Lady Stansbury, that might be true, but Marjorie knew that when it came to her guardian, she intended to be a great inconvenience indeed.
With Marjorie in the hands of Lady Stansbury and her friends, and with the baroness consigned to her cabin for the remainder of the voyage, Jonathan was finally able to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.
He ate a leisurely breakfast, then put himself in the hands of the ship’s barber for a shave and a proper haircut, pleasures of civilized life he hadn’t had much opportunity to enjoy during the past decade. He then sought out the purser, inquired about a tour of the ship, and—probably due to Marjorie’s mention the night before of his sister the duchess—he was immediately offered one by the purser himself.
The next few hours passed in the blink of an eye, for Jonathan found the intricate workings of an ocean liner absolutely fascinating. As a result, he missed the first seating for luncheon, and he did not see Marjorie and her slew of elderly chaperones at the second, but when he took a stroll late that afternoon, he spied her holed up in a sheltered corner of the promenade deck, suitably dressed in her black suit
and an unadorned black blouse buttoned up to her chin. Around her hands, she was holding a skein of wool so that her chaperone could wind the yarn into a ball.
“Ladies,” he said, doffing his hat and giving her a smile as he went by. Marjorie gave one in return, but he wasn’t the least bit fooled by it, for he could feel her gaze boring into his back as he walked on.
He did feel rather sorry for her, surrounded as she was by women at least four decades older than she, but he couldn’t afford to soften, even a little. If he did, she’d take full advantage of it.
With a couple hours until dinner, he decided it was an ideal time to get some work done, and he returned to his stateroom. He was soon immersed in financial statements and stock reports, but it wasn’t long before a knock on his door interrupted. “Come in,” he called, thinking only a member of ship’s staff would be knocking on his door at this time of day.
He found he was mistaken, however, for it was Marjorie who walked in, already dressed for dinner in the baroness’s scandalous black velvet gown. “We need to talk. Right now.”
Jonathan fell back in his chair with a sigh. So much for peace and quiet.
Chapter 9
Putting his ward in Lady Stansbury’s hands had enabled Jonathan to enjoy a serene, relaxed afternoon, but one look at Marjorie’s face told him that blissful interlude had just come to an end.
“Tell me,” he said as he tossed aside his pen, stood up, and turned toward her, “is invading my rooms going to become a habit with you?”
“You did say, ‘Come in,’” she pointed out as she closed the door behind her.
“So I did,” he conceded, consoling himself for the fact that Marjorie was in his cabin with the reminder that this time around, he was at least fully dressed. “What have you done with Lady Stansbury?”
“I tossed her overboard.”
Heiress Gone Wild Page 9