Page 87 of Heiress Gone Wild

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He met her eyes. “There’s only one woman here I want to dance with, and because she so cruelly denied me the three waltzes I asked for, I’m forced to be content with one.”

He was rewarded with a smile, though she looked away at once, and it was several more turns around the ballroom before she replied. “Three waltzes with the same man implies an engagement,” she said at last. “And, if you remember, I turned you down.”

“That’s not the sort of thing a man forgets, believe me. But—” He broke off, wondering if a ballroom floor was the right moment to take the next step, but hell, what did he have to lose?

“But,” he resumed, “I told you I wasn’t giving up, and I meant it. I’ve done a lot of thinking since you refused me,” he rushed on as she opened her mouth to speak. “About the reasons you gave and what I could do to overcome your objections, and how I might change your mind and gain another chance with you.”

“Jonathan—”

“I think I may have found a way to give us both what we want. It’s my vision of the future—mine, and hopefully, yours, too, and I want to show it to you. Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. Clara can bring you in the pony trap.”

“But where are we going?” she asked.

“To my home.”

She stumbled, and he had to wrap an arm around her to steady her. “Careful,” he cautioned, easing back, letting her go when all he wanted was to pull her closer, for many eyes were watching them.

“What do you mean, your home?” she asked as they resumed dancing. “You don’t have a home.”

“I do now. I bought a house. That’s part of what I was doing today. If you don’t like it,” he added, getting nervous as she stared at him, “I’m willing to sell it and look for something else. But to me, it felt like the perfect house, especially given what I’ll be doing with my life now.”

The waltz ended before she could reply, a good thing, since the bewilderment in her face told him he’d said enough already. “It’ll all make more sense tomorrow, believe me,” he said as he offered his arm to escort her back to her place. “I’m hoping it will cause you to reconsider your decision, but if not, I’ll wait. If you want to have a season, meet other men...”

He paused, the words to set her free sticking in his throat, but they were nearly across the ballroom, so he forced them out, speaking in a rush. “I won’t like it, but I’ll endure it. I’ll wait. I’ll court you in honorable fashion. I know you don’t think I’m the right man for you, but I intend to change your mind because I know you are the only woman for me. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. All I ask is that you give me a chance. Give us a chance.”

There was no time for more, for they had reached Irene’s side. He gave his sister a nod, then reached for Marjorie’s hand.

“Ten o’clock tomorrow,” he said. “I hope you’ll come.”

With that, he bowed over her hand and turned away, departing the ballroom without a backward glance.

Chapter 22

The ball was over. All the guests who lived in the county had climbed into their carriages and departed for home, and all the guests staying at Ravenwood had gone to bed. Even the servants had called it a night, and now, the house was dead quiet, indicating that everyone was asleep.

Everyone, that is, but Jonathan.

After he’d left Marjorie in the ballroom, he hadn’t stayed with the family for goodnights and farewells to the guests. Instead, he’d gone to his room. He’d undressed and gotten into bed, but he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling and thought of her—of how she’d come down those stairs looking so beautiful it made him ache, of her in his arms as they danced, of her mysterious smile that could drive him to the brink.

He thought of the plans he’d set in motion today, of the future he’d begun and all the exciting possibilities that lay ahead. He knew it was the right future for him, if he could only convince Marjorie to share it with him.

Jonathan reached up and lifted his pocket watch off the hook on the wall, turned the face toward the window, and read by the shaft of moonlight between the curtains that it was just after three. Still wide-awake, he decided to go for a walk. It was a fine night, and there was plenty of moonlight for a stroll.

He shoved back the counterpane and got out of bed, then lit a lamp and walked to the armoire, but he’d barely pulled on a pair of trousers and a smoking jacket when the door of his room suddenly opened.

Startled, he whirled around, and was astonished to find Marjorie standing in the doorway, a lit candle in her hand. “What the devil?” he muttered, as she slipped inside his room.

“You’re still awake,” she whispered, closing the door behind her and blowing out the candle. “I’m so glad. I thought I’d have to wake you.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm, also keeping his voice low. “What are you doing at this end of the house? And how do you even know which room I’m in?”

“The baroness found out for me. But,” she added as he expelled an exasperated sigh, “it took me forever to find my way over here. It’s hard to navigate this house with just a candle.”

“I daresay. But...” He paused as the reality of the situation began to sink in, a reality that was so much like his erotic imaginings that his throat went dry. Marjorie was in his room, wearing nothing but a nightgown and wrapper, her hair loose and tumbling in long waves around her shoulders. “But why are you here?”

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