Page 66 of Heiress Gone Wild

“Yes.”

“What will you do there?”

“I have to deal with Marjorie’s trust investments first, and some of my own as well. After that, I’m not sure. I’ll roam a bit, see what piques my interest. I am aware of dozens of ventures seeking capital, but they need to be investigated.”

As he spoke, he was surprised by his own lack of enthusiasm for the trip. Perhaps because the reality was sinking in that the friend who’d planned it with him wouldn’t be along, or perhaps because deep down he knew that whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found there—a much more disturbing possibility. Or perhaps, he thought in chagrin, his desire for Marjorie was the reason for his reluctance to go. An irony, that, given all his efforts to keep away from her.

But if he stayed, those efforts would be in vain, and someone’s heart—probably his, and possibly hers, too—would end up in pieces. He’d had his heart broken once already; he really didn’t want to do that again.

And besides, he had no purpose here, not now. He had no desire for Deverill Publishing, and there was no doubt in his mind that turning it down was the right decision, but if he stayed here, what would he do with himself? What did he want?

“Are you limiting yourself to African investments these days?” Rex asked, breaking into his thoughts. “Or would you consider some British ones?”

With an effort, he forced aside the pesky, unanswerable question that seemed to be endlessly rattling around in his brain these days. “I’m always open to a potentially profitable venture, regardless of where it’s based. Why do you ask?”

“I have connections you may be interested in. Men who want to form joint ventures and need men like you.”

That made Jonathan grin. “You mean they need men with money?”

“Well, finding capital always does seem to be the stumbling block in the way of big ideas, doesn’t it? But if you really are looking for investment opportunities, I have a suggestion for you. Join a club.”

He groaned. “First the club, then the old school tie. What’s next? Standing for Parliament and buying a country house I can dash down to at weekends where I shall host parties of great political importance?”

“I’m serious, Jonathan,” Rex said even as he smiled. “Being a member of a club would be a tremendous asset to you. And many of the members will have connections in Africa that might be of use to you.”

As much as he loved to poke fun at his country’s more pompous institutions and traditions, he also appreciated the wisdom of his friend’s advice. “I suppose you’re right, though why any club with sense would have a reverse snob like me as a member, I can’t imagine.”

“I’d recommend Travellers. Given your ten years in America and your upcoming trip, you’d be an asset to the membership. And it’s a club that would suit you. Also, Henry is a man of great influence and he has a membership there, as do I. With us to recommend you, there’s no question you’d be admitted. And until then, you could come as my guest, or Henry’s.”

“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh of mock forbearance. “You’ve convinced me. After all, I’ve got heaps of time to kill before I leave for Johannesburg. Might as well put it to good use.”

“Do you still intend to return in January?”

“I’m not certain. Since Marjorie seems settled here now...” He paused, words suddenly stuck in his throat, and took a moment before he could go on. “I may stay in Africa a bit longer. We’ll have to see.”

“Just don’t stay away ten years next time.” Rex glanced at the ticking clock on the wall and then at the darkened windows outside. “God, it’s half past seven. We’d best be on our way.”

The two men stood up, swallowed the last of their whiskey, and returned downstairs. “There’s a mews just around the corner,” Rex told him as they left the building. “My driver usually waits there, and I’m sure he’s wondering what’s become of me. The family likely is, too.”

“Are you and Clara joining us this evening?” Jonathan asked as the two men started down the sidewalk.

“We are, and the duke’s cook will make no end of a fuss if we’re late. He’s such a temperamental fellow.”

With those words, Jonathan’s thoughts returned to what had happened earlier in the tearoom at Claridge’s, and suddenly, the idea of sitting across from Marjorie at dinner seemed unbearable. Deciding two hours of erotic fantasies about her was enough self-torture for one day, he stopped on the sidewalk.

“You go on,” he said, and as Rex stopped beside him, looking surprised, he hastily invented an excuse. “I’ve just remembered I’m supposed to meet an old friend for dinner.”

“What restaurant? I can drop you.”

“No, no, it’s the opposite direction. I’ll take a hansom.” He started walking backward toward the taxi stand. “Make my excuses to everyone, would you?”

“Of course. Good night.”

Rex resumed walking toward the mews, and Jonathan continued toward the taxi stand, where a hansom cab was already waiting, its doors flung back. The driver straightened up on the box as he approached. “Where to, guv’nor?”

An excellent question, Jonathan thought.In more ways than one. “Number Twelve Belford Row,” he said on impulse. “Holborn.”

Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of a large terrace house and came to a stop, then the hatch in the roof above Jonathan’s head opened.

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