Page 21 of Heiress Gone Wild

“I’ve done more during my ten years in America than the average British gentleman does in a lifetime,” he told her. “The farthest my fellow countryman usually journeys is to Scotland or Paris, but I’ve traveled across plains so vast, Scotland’s a tiny speck by comparison. I’ve crossed mountain ranges so beautiful, so awe-inspiring, the sight of them takes your breath away and makes your chest hurt.”

Even though the life he’d lived wasn’t the sort of life she wanted, as Marjorie studied his face, she couldn’t help feeling a faint, answering thrill. “The only place I’ve ever seen that might be described as remarkable in any way is Niagara Falls.”

As she spoke, her thrill faded away, replaced by a strange and pensive melancholy. “I’ve never been anywhere,” she murmured. “Nor done anything, really.”

“Until now.”

“True,” she agreed, brightening at the reminder. “I am on my way to a whole different world.”

“I hope you enjoy that world more than I.”

“So...” She paused, nodding to their opulent surroundings. “None of this is enjoyable to you?”

“I wouldn’t quite say that.” Something changed in his face as he looked at her, and when his lashes lowered, his tawny gaze sliding down, a wave of inexplicable heat washed over Marjorie—through her midsection, along her limbs, and into her face—a sensation so unfamiliar and unexpected that she couldn’t seem to move, or even breathe.

“To look at beautiful women,” he said gravely, his gaze lifting again to her face, “is always a pleasure.”

He thought she was beautiful. Suddenly, her wits felt thick as tar, her heart was pounding in her chest, and her body seemed to be tingling everywhere.

She’d never felt like this before, but then, no man had ever really looked at her before, not this way. The only unmarried men she’d ever had occasion to meet were the widowed fathers who’d come to Forsyte Academy on Visiting Days, and those men were rare as hen’s teeth. They were also far too occupied with the state of their daughters’ education to take notice of her as anything more than a schoolteacher. This was the first time, she realized, that any man had looked at her as if she was awoman.

The sensation was both dizzying and scary, rather as if she were a baby bird perched on a limb, longing to leap into space and fly, but also aware she could crash to the ground.

“To eat good food,” he went on, “to drink fine champagne, sleep on luxurious sheets, engage in erudite conversation—I enjoy all of that, believe me. But after a time, I grow weary of the petty small-mindedness, the gossip, the snobbery, the triviality, and the excruciatingly slow pace, and I long to be off to the wilds again. I don’t mind stepping into a world of high society once in a while, but I have no desire to live in it permanently.”

With that, any romantic excitement Marjorie felt fizzled and died. Everything he’d just told her confirmed what she’d already suspected. Forever inclined to wander, able to leave behind those who cared for him without regret, he sounded just like her father, and that made him the last man in the world any girl with sense ought to have romantic notions about.

Marjorie knew that when she settled down, it would be with a man who’d stick, a man who wanted to build a home and make a life, not one who was always looking to the next horizon.

“No wonder you and my father were such good friends,” she remarked. “He didn’t seem to fancy staying in one place any more than you do. Frankly, I’m amazed you two worked that mine as long as you did. But then,” she added thoughtfully, “it’s not as if I knew him well enough to understand his motives for anything.”

“Is there...” He paused to give her a searching look. “Is there anything about him that you want to know? What he was like, or—”

“No.” Aware of the uncompromising quality of her voice, she added, “I don’t really want to talk about him, or even think about him. I’m sure you think that’s awful.”

“Actually, I don’t.” He expelled a sigh. “You were quite right in what you said earlier.”

“I was?” Marjorie was amazed that he’d admit she was right about anything.

“It was unfair of me to judge you so harshly for not grieving a man you didn’t know, even if he was your father.”

She felt a glimmer of hope. “So, I don’t have to go into mourning after all?”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he commented ruefully. “Sorry, but I intend to see that you do whatever propriety requires.”

She groaned and gave up. “So, if you’re such a restless man, why did you stay? At the mine, I mean?”

“Well, when you tap into an enormous vein of silver worth millions of dollars, it’s deuced hard to walk away.”

“So the two of you stayed just because of the money?”

He considered, taking a sip of champagne before he replied. “I can’t speak for your father. But for myself, let’s just say I had things to prove.”

“What things?”

“I started out with nothing. I didn’t want to end up with nothing.”

“A newspaper business doesn’t sound like nothing to me. Weren’t you the only son?”

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