Page 72 of Heiress Gone Wild

That piqued Jonathan’s interest at once. “What does Hawthorne Shipping do?” he asked. “Import and export?”

The marquess shook his head. “We build transatlantic steamships, both in Liverpool and in Southampton.”

“Indeed? Cargo or passenger?”

“Cargo. I had—” He broke off, shooting an inquiring glance at Rex that did not escape Jonathan’s notice. Rex must have nodded, for Kayne continued, “I should like to expand into building passenger liners as well.”

Hence the purpose of this meeting. The man needed capital. “You wish to manufacture and sell passenger liners to Cunard, White Star, and—” He broke off in surprise as Kayne shook his head.

“That’s an option, certainly, but it’s not the plan I’d like to implement.” Those cool blue eyes met Jonathan’s, a hard, shrewd glint in their depths. “I prefer to think bigger.”

Jonathan was intrigued. “You don’t want to build for them,” he said, feeling his interest rise as he appreciated the other man’s true vision. “You want to compete with them. A bold strategy,” he added as the other man nodded.

“Yes,” the marquess said simply. “It is.”

He paused for a swallow of whiskey, then went on, “My partner was to be my brother’s American father-in-law, Colonel Dutton, and my brother was to assist me with the venture. Unfortunately, Dutton lost a packet in the last Wall Street crash, so we had to scrap the plan, and my brother took up a diplomatic post with the British embassy in Washington.”

“But you still want to do it?”

“Yes. Having already spent several years on this project and invested a small fortune, I do not want to abandon it altogether.”

“So, you need investors to take Dutton’s place. Have you arranged for any as yet?”

“Not yet,” Kayne admitted. “I’ve scarcely begun to look.”

“That,” Rex interjected, “is where you come in, dear fellow.”

Jonathan considered. “I like the idea,” he said after a moment, “but to compete head-on with the existing companies, you’ll have to establish ports and routes and gain the moorings.”

“My brother had already begun that process, making arrangements with both Ostend and New York before he left for Washington. And I am due to meet with moorings officials in Gibraltar next month to continue what he started. But if I can’t find capital, it will all be for naught.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, Lord Kayne,” Jonathan said and meant it. “It always interests me to meet men of vision. Most men think too small. Send your prospectus to me at Upper Brook Street. I will look it over, and if I like what I see, we can talk further.”

At that moment, their meal arrived, and talk of business was abandoned. Afterward, Kayne suggested bridge, and though Henry and Rex were obligated to refuse, having social engagements to attend that evening, Jonathan was happy to accept the marquess’s invitation, and if the money the two men earned as bridge partners that evening was any indication, a joint venture between them would prove highly profitable.

By the time Jonathan returned to the house on Upper Brook Street, it was well past midnight, and the door had already been latched, but since Irene had given him a key, he was able to let himself in.

The house was dark and silent, indicating that everyone, including the servants, had gone to bed. He started up the stairs, thinking to do the same, but on the first-floor landing, he paused, noticing light spilling into the corridor from the drawing room.

A lamp or gas jet left unattended could be dangerous. Rather surprised that one of Torquil’s servants could be so careless, he went down the corridor, thinking to put the light out before going to bed, but when he entered the drawing room, he found that Torquil’s servants had not been careless at all.

Through the opened double doors that led into the library, he could see Marjorie sitting on the floor, an opened trunk in front of her, a trunk he recognized, for he’d been the one to fill it with her father’s things and send it to White Plains. Following the instructions in his telegram, Mrs. Forsyte had shipped it here.

Marjorie didn’t seem to notice him in the doorway. Her head was bent, the long, loose braid of her hair falling across one shoulder and over her breast, the soft white fabric of her nightdress billowing around, making it seem as if she was sitting on a cloud.

He started toward her, but she didn’t even look up, and as he approached the library, he could see over the top of the open trunk that she was reading a letter, a letter on paper of an unmistakable robin’s egg blue.

He stopped, staring at it, his own mind realizing for the first time the deeper implications of the information it contained. And when she spoke, he knew she had realized those implications, too.

“He was in New York,” she said, letting the letter fall into her lap. She looked up, and in her big brown eyes, he could see shock and pain. “Three years after he left me at Mrs. Forsyte’s, he came back to New York, but it wasn’t to see me.”

Her face twisted, went awry, and his chest tightened in response, her pain squeezing him like a vise. When a tear slid down her cheek, he felt it burn him like acid.

“He came all the way from Idaho. He was an hour away from me by train. One hour. And he did not come to see me.”

Jonathan couldn’t stand it. He started forward again, but he’d only taken a few steps before remembering what had happened the last time he’d found himself alone with her.

He stopped again, fully aware of her vulnerable state and his own. He reminded himself of the reasons why he ought to turn around right now and walk out, but it did no good. He could not leave her, not like this.

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