Page 42 of Heiress Gone Wild

Pausing, she pressed a hand to her stomach and gave a shudder as if recalling her weeklong bout of seasickness, and Marjorie had to suppress a smile. No wonder Jonathan thought the woman a fraud, for she wasn’t really that good an actress.

“It’s all right, Baroness,” Marjorie said gravely. “Seasickness must be awful. And I’m sure we shall see each other here in town. After all,” she went on, watching the other woman closely, “you do know the duchess.”

“But of course we shall see each other,” the baroness exclaimed, showing no sign of deception. “You do the season, no?”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Marjorie gave a wistful sigh. “I am supposed to be in mourning.”

“Bah. You hardly knew your father. The duchess will not be such a... what is the word I want? Stickler?”

“Perhaps the duchess won’t,” Marjorie conceded, sliding a meaningful sideways glance at Jonathan. “But she isn’t the only consideration.”

The baroness laughed. “Your guardian is a man. I doubt he will gainsay his sister in a matter such as this. And even if he does...” She paused to give Marjorie a wink. “He will be gone before long, no? And the duchess lives a very short distance from here. No, no, we will see each other again soon, my young friend.” She turned as Jonathan came up to them. “You shall call upon me tomorrow, Mr. Deverill, yes?”

“I am happy to do so. Shall we say three o’clock?”

Marjorie grasped the meaning behind that exchange at once, and after they had returned to their waiting taxi, she couldn’t resist teasing him about it. “Paying her to feign seasickness was a cruel thing to do to me,” she accused, shaking her head.

“You survived.”

“So did Lady Stansbury. Lucky for her.”

That made him grin, but once the taxi merged into traffic, he looked at her, his grin faded, and suddenly, the memory of that kiss was between them in the confined space of the carriage like a tangible thing. As they stared at each other, Marjorie could almost feel his arms around her and his mouth on hers. With no chaperones and no prying eyes and his tawny eyes looking into hers, all the wild, overwhelming sensations he had evoked came over her in a flood, as vivid now as the moment the kiss had happened.

Heat flooded her body, making her blush, and she looked out the window, forcing herself to say something. “The streets are so crowded here, aren’t they?” Even as she spoke, she grimaced at the inanity of her own remark and the nervous pitch of her voice, but desperate, she persevered. “It’s worse than Manhattan. We’re scarcely moving.”

“London traffic’s always beastly. Believe me, I know. I grew up here.”

She drew a breath and looked at him again, glad to have a neutral topic more interesting than the traffic. “How does it feel to be home again?”

With that question, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and he eased into the opposite corner of the taxi, stretching out his long legs as best he could in the confined space. “Odd,” he admitted.

“It must be, after ten years away.”

“It’s all very familiar, naturally. Comfortable, too, in a way—rather like putting on one’s favorite pair of old shoes. And yet...” He paused and glanced outside, then looked back at her. “It also feels crowded, a bit stifling. Alien, too, like I’ve stepped into the pages of a Jules Verne novel.”

“And I feel like I’ve stepped into a romantic fairy tale.”

“Perhaps you have.” The gold lights in his eyes seemed to glint with sudden fire, and Marjorie’s stomach gave a nervous lurch.

“Tell me about your sisters,” she said, seizing on another topic. “Since I’m about to meet at least one of them in very short order, I suppose I ought to learn a bit more about them. What are they like?”

He hesitated, and she couldn’t help a laugh. “Is it such a hard question?”

“It is, rather. As you know, I haven’t seen my sisters for ten years, and even before then, I was away at school much of the time when we were growing up.” He considered. “I’m sure they’ve changed a great deal since I went away. They’re both married now, and they both have children. Didn’t Lady Stansbury tell you anything about my sisters?”

“Not much.” She made a rueful face. “I asked about the duchess, and the entire sewing circle went silent, all of them looking at each other as if they didn’t know what to say. Finally, Mrs. Anstruthur said something about Her Grace being very political and modern in her views, whereupon I saw Mrs. Fulton-Smythe kick her—yes, actually kick her. Mrs. Anstruthur, poor woman, stopped talking and looked embarrassed. Lady Stansbury frowned at me, said she hoped I was not in any way political, and changed the subject.”

Jonathan laughed, much to her bewilderment. “Irene has always had an independent streak,” he explained, “and it seems to have gotten under the skin of Lady Stansbury and her friends. Irene is a staunch suffragist.”

“I see.” Marjorie grinned. “I think I like her already.”

Jonathan’s amusement faded at once. “Don’t follow in her footsteps, please.”

“Oh?” She straightened in her seat, a bit nettled. “Why not? Because you don’t think women should have the vote?”

“Women in Idaho got the vote for their state elections ages ago, as have several other Western American states, and despite the dire predictions of most of the men, the world didn’t come crashing down around our ears. No, I only meant that I don’t want you getting arrested.”

She blinked in surprise. “The duchess got arrested?”

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