Page 52 of Heiress Gone Wild

Everyone laughed at that, particularly the men.

“I’d love to rescue you,” Torquil told him, “but I have to be in the Lords. Important vote tomorrow.”

“Is there a vote tomorrow?” asked Lady David. “Then Jamie’s sure to be in town.” Her face puckered, as if she’d just eaten a lemon. “I do hope he didn’t bring that woman with him.”

“Her name is Amanda,” Irene said, her voice suddenly hard. “After over five years of having her in the family, one would think you’d know it by now.”

“I know it.” Lady David gave a sniff. “Doesn’t mean I have to use it.”

The tension between the two women was thick enough to cut with a knife, and in Irene’s hazel eyes, so like Jonathan’s, Marjorie recognized the same golden sparks of battle. Thankfully, however, Clara spoke again, breaking the tension.

“So, Irene, what can we do that won’t violate Marjorie’s mourning period? No balls, naturally, and no large parties. The theater or opera would be all right, I suppose, but we have to think of more amusements than that.”

“What about a water party?” Torquil suggested. “We could take theMary Louisaup the Thames, have a picnic at Kew.”

“TheMary Louisais a ship, I take it?” Jonathan asked.

“My second yacht.”

“You have more than one?”

“TheMary Louisais a smaller craft, for use on the river. TheEndeavoris a larger vessel, for sailing the Solent and jaunts across the Channel.”

“Two yachts?” Marjorie murmured sweetly, giving Jonathan a wide-eyed stare of amazement. “Imagine people spending their money on things like that,” she continued, ignoring his wry answering glance. “Tell me, Your Grace, do you have racehorses and motorcars, too?”

“I’m afraid not. Irene and I have discussed buying a motor, but until we have better roads and petrol is more widely available, I can’t see the point. As to racehorses, no, I’m not a racing man. Why do you ask?”

“That,” Jonathan put in before she could answer, “is Marjorie’s little joke. Do you host many water parties, Duke?”

“We’ve had two already this season.”

“We’d have one every week,” Irene assured, laughing, “if Henry had his way. My husband, you see, will seize any opportunity to be on the water. Which means, I should start planning one for Marjorie. Late June or early July, perhaps. That will give us time to introduce Marjorie to other members of the family and our friends. In the meantime, there’s the theater and the opera, as Clara said, and we’ll pay calls, have a few Afternoons-At-Home, that sort of thing.”

“It all sounds lovely,” Marjorie said with heartfelt appreciation. “I also have several friends from schooldays who are living here in England, and if any of them are in town, I’d love to call on them, if that’s all right? But first...” She paused, giving the ladies an apologetic look. “Would you mind if I visit a modiste and obtain a proper wardrobe? I have no clothes but my teacher’s uniforms, two Sunday frocks, and two evening gowns.”

“That’s all?” Lady David asked, looking appalled on her behalf, her scandalous sister-in-law forgotten. “Oh, my dear, youarein desperate need. Irene, we must take her to Jay’s first thing.”

“Of course,” Irene said. “Sarah and Angela will have to wait. We’ll go to Jay’s tomorrow, and order you a few things in gray, mauve, and white—enough to carry you through to August. Then, before we leave for the country, we’ll have our modiste fit you with an entire autumn wardrobe. You can come out of mourning at that time and have your clothes made up in any colors you like.”

“Thank you,” Marjorie said, relieved. “I’m grateful you’re willing to bend the rules, Irene. I hope...” She paused, biting her lip. “I hope people won’t think I’m unfeeling because of it.”

“Not unfeeling,” Lady David said, her voice light, but the disapproval beneath it was clear. “Though perhaps somewhat cavalier.”

She wandered away to join the men, and Irene leaned closer to Marjorie. “You mustn’t mind Carlotta. She’s terrified of anything that might taint the family name. And she’s a bit of a snob. The first time she ever met me, she gave the dress I was wearing the same once-over she gave yours tonight.”

Marjorie glanced at the duchess’s stunning gown of sapphire blue silk, a mark of the other woman’s good taste. “I can’t imagine your clothes could ever give cause for disapproval.”

“Can’t you?” Irene smiled. “When I first met Henry’s family, I had no taste for fashion. I was running our newspaper business, Clara was my secretary, and we both dressed to suit our occupation—plain skirts, white blouses, and neckties. When we first came to stay in this house, it was an unexpected event, we had no proper clothes, and we had to make a mad dash to a department store on our way. Carlotta was horrified by our unpressed Debenham and Freebody dresses, wasn’t she, Clara?”

“Well, yes, but that’s because she’s so concerned about what people think. She’s nicer than she seems. Truly,” Clara added, laughing as Marjorie politely didn’t reply. “When Irene was on honeymoon, she chaperoned me, and I was able to appreciate that she just wants to show our family in the best light. And when it comes to clothes, she does have excellent taste. She taught me a great deal.”

“And me,” Irene said, gesturing to her dress. “I would never have picked something like this six years ago, but Carlotta was a great help to me, and you’ll find her advice about clothes is impeccable. We should also begin our search for a maid for you as soon as possible. Eileen’s a sweet girl, very willing, but though you won’t be doing the season properly until next year, you must have a true lady’s maid. Heavens,” she added, as if surprised by her own words, “who’d ever have thought six years ago I’d say something like that?”

“Not me,” Clara assured, taking a sip of sherry. “The reason we stopped at Debenham and Freebody on our way here that day so long ago was because I insisted. Had it been left to my sister, we’d have arrived on a duke’s doorstep looking like a pair of typists, ink stains on our cuffs and pencils behind our ears.”

Marjorie smiled, imagining these two standing in the duke’s elegant entrance hall dressed as Clara described. “Your family has been in newspapers for many years, I understand?”

“Our great-grandfather started things, but it was his son who built Deverill Publishing into an empire,” Irene said. “To no avail.”

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