Page 17 of Heiress Gone Wild

“But of course! When Marjorie was first introduced to me—”

“Introduced by whom?”

The woman laughed again, not seeming bothered by that incisive question. “We rather introduced ourselves, did we not, Marjorie?”

“Am I to understand,” Jonathan said before his ward could answer, “that you have met my sister, Irene?”

“Oh, yes! We met in Paris about four years ago. She was on her wedding journey with the duke. Dear Torquil. What a splendid man, and so handsome.”

“How odd that you should have met my sister four years ago during her honeymoon,” Jonathan said pleasantly, “since her wedding was six years ago.”

The woman didn’t even blink. “As much as that? Ach, the time, it passes so fast.” Waving a hand vaguely in the air, she added, “As I was saying, the duchess will have no cause to fault my chaperonage. I—”

“Nonetheless,” he cut her off, his patience with this charade beginning to wear thin, “my desire to speak privately with my ward is not the least untoward. You see, Miss McGann and I need to discuss certain financial matters.” He paused, meeting the woman’s blue eyes with a meaningful glance. “Specifically, those relating to my management of her money.”

Whoever she was, the woman at least had enough sense to appreciate that though Miss McGann had hired her, he was the one who’d be signing the checks.

“Of course,” she said, accepting the situation with a dignified bow of the head. Turning away, she walked to the door, opening it as Marjorie moved aside, but she paused on the threshold to give him and his ward a warning glance. “I shall wait for you in the corridor, Marjorie.”

“With an ear to the keyhole, no doubt,” Jonathan muttered as the door swung shut behind her.

“Something any good chaperone would do in this situation,” Marjorie replied.

“No,” he corrected at once. “A truly good chaperone would never countenance a young woman in her charge wearing a dress like that.”

He gestured to her ensemble, causing Marjorie to glance down at herself. “What’s wrong with my gown?” she asked, smoothing the velvet over her hips—an unnecessary move, since the blasted garment fitted her like a second skin. “The baroness told me it’s the latest fashion from Paris. And it fits, though the last hour’s been a scramble, since we had to call for a maid and have the sides taken in a bit.”

“You took them in a bit too much, I’d say.”

The acidity of his voice penetrated, and Marjorie looked up. “What have I done now?” she asked with a sigh. “I’m wearing black. I’m trying to compromise. I thought you’d be pleased.”

Jonathan was acutely aware that if this were any other woman, not his ward, not the daughter of his best friend, he would have been very pleased indeed. “Just who is this woman?”

“I told you. Baroness Vasiliev. She’s Russian.” Ignoring his sound of skepticism, she went on, “She lost her entire family to an influenza outbreak years ago, including her young son. Very sad.”

“Tragic. What part of Russia?”

“The... Ukraine, I think. Or is it Georgia? Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, since she lives in Paris most of the year nowadays.”

“Paris? I’d have guessed London.” He folded his arms. “Somewhere near Drury Lane, for choice.”

She tilted her head a bit to one side, studying him. “You seem upset, and I can’t think why. I needed a chaperone, so I found myself one.”

This situation was deteriorating from absurdity to farce. “You cannot go out and find your own chaperone. Things aren’t done that way.”

“Isn’t it rather pointless to tell me I can’t do what I’ve already done? She is a baroness, so you can’t say she’s not acceptable. And it’s not as if I can’t afford the expense.”

An expense he’d have to approve, but Jonathan didn’t bother pointing that out. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “A baroness needs to be paid to be a chaperone?”

“I offered. She lost all her money. Bad investments. You know how it is with the aristocracy.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “No money sense.”

“Aristocracy? What—that woman?” Jonathan made a sound of disbelief, but Marjorie didn’t seem to hear it.

“Land rents don’t bring in anything for them nowadays, not with this awful agricultural depression going on in Europe.”

“You seem quite knowledgeable about global economics.”

“Well, it’s pretty common knowledge that the aristocracy is going broke. Why do you think so many British lords want to marry rich American girls like me? And the baroness explained that when her husband and son died, the land went to the next heir, some distant cousin who refused to give his poor relation an income. The woman is practically destitute.”

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