Page 68 of Heiress Gone Wild

“Clara, he doesn’t want it,” Rex said and looked up at his driver as Torquil’s footman closed the carriage door. “Walk on, Kettridge. Good morning, ladies,” he added as the footman stepped back and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” Clara muttered with a toss of her head. “That’s obvious.”

“It’s equally obvious he knows what he doesn’t want, as I’ve already told you multiple times now.”

“But Deverill Publishing is his company, too,” Clara said, making Marjorie realize they were talking about Jonathan. “And since we don’t even know yet what his duties might encompass, I don’t believe he can be as decided about it as he seems. And,” she added, overriding her husband as he tried to speak, “I don’t see why you’re so adamant about not talking to him further.”

“Well, now, what’s this?” Carlotta asked as she opened her parasol over her head. “I hope you two aren’t having a quarrel on such a lovely day?”

It was a clear attempt to change the subject to something less personal, but Clara seemed in no frame of mind to take the hint. “A disagreement isn’t a quarrel,” she said, giving her sister-in-law a somewhat impatient glance before returning her attention to her husband. “Maybe I should talk with him. Ask him to reconsider.”

“Guilt him into staying?” Rex countered. “Yes, that sounds like the perfect plan. It worked so well last time.”

“That’s not fair,” Clara replied. “I never used guilt to try to make Jonathan come home. Never. And I wouldn’t now.”

“You never used guilt deliberately, I’ll grant you that. Either way,” he rushed on before she could dispute the point, “I advise against it. You might make things worse.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Don’t you, my darling?” Rex laughed. “I know what it’s like when you open up those big round eyes of yours and ask for something. Saying no to you then is like trying to hold back the tide. But participating in Deverill Publishing isn’t what he wants, and if he gave in, I think he’d regret it.”

“You offered Jonathan a place in Deverill Publishing?” Marjorie asked, jumping into the conversation before she could resist, remembering too late that her guardian’s life had nothing to do with her. “Sorry,” she added at once. “It’s not my business.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Clara assured her. “If we wanted to keep it a secret, we wouldn’t be talking about it. We asked Jonathan to take an active role in the company, yes.”

“And he refused,” Marjorie said, the words bitter on her tongue.

“He did,” Rex confirmed, giving his wife a meaningful glance. “And Clara,” he added, “if you love your brother and want to maintain the peace you two have achieved, I’d advise you to accept his decision with grace, and support him in whatever he does decide to do. You can’t force him to stay where he doesn’t want to be.”

Marjorie had known that all along, of course, but hearing someone else say it out loud hurt more than she’d thought possible, and she was relieved when the other woman dropped the subject.

Carlotta stepped tactfully into the silence with a comment about how outrageous the hats at Ascot had been this year, and for the remainder of the ride to Queen’s Wharf, she was able to keep the conversation on inconsequential topics like fashion, the delicate state of the elderly Queen’s health, and the weather.

“It looks to be a gorgeous day on the water,” she told Marjorie as Rex’s carriage halted by the pier where Torquil’s yacht was moored. “And the wind seems just right, too, thank heaven,” she added as she and Marjorie followed Rex and Clara along the quay toward the duke’s waiting yacht. “If the breeze is too light, we usually have to cancel.”

“Not always,” Clara said over her shoulder with a laugh, indicating that her good mood had been restored. “Remember last year, Carlotta, when we decided to chance it and we found ourselves becalmed at Kew? We had to be towed back by a steamer.”

“I’d rather have that than the other,” Carlotta said as they started up the gangplank. “If the breeze is too strong, all the ladies go home with headaches because of our hat pins.”

“As a man, I take a different view,” Rex said as he stepped aboard and turned to assist his wife. “With a strong breeze, the ladies’ skirts blow up, giving gentlemen the opportunity to admire the pretty ankles of our wives.”

“Which does you no good at all, darling,” Clara replied as she grasped his hand and stepped on deck, “if your wife has a headache.”

They all laughed at that valid point as Rex guided Marjorie onto the ship, where Irene was waiting to greet them, a footman beside her with a tray of filled champagne flutes.

“Welcome aboard theMary Louisa,” the duchess said as she handed Marjorie a glass.

“Irene, your husband is shameless,” Clara put in as she also accepted a glass of champagne. “He’s roped our brother in to help, I see.”

Marjorie turned and saw Jonathan seated over the point of the bow, his long legs dangling on either side. His jacket off, his shirtsleeves rolled back, and a cap shading his eyes, he looked completely at ease as he knotted rope, securing the sail.

“You know how it is with Henry,” Irene said. “Any man aboard can be pressed into service.”

“True,” Clara agreed, “but Henry doesn’t usually let anyone handle the sails who isn’t experienced.”

“Well, Jonathan has some experience,” Marjorie commented. “He was a fishing boat captain once.”

“He was?” Clara and Irene said simultaneously, and when Marjorie looked at them, she found both his sisters staring at her in surprise.

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