Chapter 1
A prestigious girls’ finishing school in White Plains, New York, was the last place on earth Jonathan Deverill would ever have expected to find himself.
Granted, he’d been living on the American continent for nigh on ten years, but most of that time had been spent on the Western frontier, among people who had little to do with genteel society.
The office of Forsyte Academy’s headmistress was a plain room of distempered gray walls and Shaker furnishings, and though it was far less ostentatious than the upper middle-class British household in which he’d been raised, the watercolors on the walls and the milk-glass vases filled with purple lilacs told him he was in the room of a lady. Given the man he’d become and the life he’d been living, this was the sort of room he seldom had cause to visit.
“So, Mr. Deverill,” Mrs. Forsyte’s brisk voice broke into his observations, “you have arrived at last.”
Her tone implied that by not arriving sooner, he had somehow failed to live up to expectations. Ah, well. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“My apologies for the delay, ma’am,” he said politely.
With her steel-gray hair and firm mouth, the headmistress was an indomitable-looking woman, but she inclined her head in gracious acceptance of his apology. “I assume you wish to see Miss McGann at once?”
“I do, yes.”
Despite her rebuke about his less-than-prompt arrival, she seemed in no hurry to comply with his reason for coming. Setting aside the card he’d given her, she sat down behind her desk and gestured for him to take the chair opposite. “I have broken the news to her of her father’s death. It was no surprise to me, of course, for I have known about his illness ever since he went into that sanitorium in Colorado eighteen months ago, but Mr. McGann insisted that his daughter not be informed. An understandable position, I suppose. Consumption is a terrible disease.”
“Yes.” A curt reply, but he did not want to talk about or even think about those final days in Denver, when he’d stood by helpless and watched his best friend die.
“And you are now Miss McGann’s legal guardian.” She looked him over, a disapproving frown drawing her brows together. “You’re younger than I expected.”
It was clear she thought him unable to look after a child, and who could blame her? He and Billy McGann had spent their time and made their money in the rough-and-tumble of America’s mining trade. Of all the people he could think of to look after a little girl, he seemed the most inappropriate choice possible.
“You must understand, Mr. Deverill, that I have, in a sense, fulfilled the role you now intend to take on. Her father tasked me with that responsibility when he placed the girl here.”
“Of course.”
The headmistress’s shrewd blue eyes narrowed, making him appreciate why she and her school had such an excellent reputation. Those eyes, he’d guess, didn’t miss much. “I have done my best to ensure that she is safeguarded from rogues, rapscallions, and confidence men.”
Despite the tragic circumstances that had brought him here, Jonathan’s mouth twitched a little. “I understand.”
“Mr. McGann was a very rich man, and news of his death has now appeared in the newspapers. How can I trust you are who you say you are? Anyone can print a card.”
“Quite so.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out the sheaf of papers that had been among Billy’s things, an exact facsimile of the will his friend had drafted eighteen months ago with the New York legal firm of Jessop, Gainsborough, and Smythe. “Would this satisfy you?”
Mrs. Forsyte took the document from his outstretched hand and proceeded to read every word. “This verifies who you are and confirms what Mr. Jessop told me,” she said as she handed the will back to him, “but I confess, I’m no less astonished.”
She was not the only one. Until a month ago, Jonathan hadn’t even known his friend and partner of seven years had a daughter, much less that the other man’s will put him in charge of the child. “No more astonished than I, madam,” he said with feeling.
“Forgive me for being blunt, but a young, unmarried man in this role seems most unsuitable. And,” she added before he could heartily concur with her opinion, “I would not have thought the girl in need of aguardianto take charge of her. Not at this point.”
Her emphasis on the word indicated that she might fear Billy had thought Forsyte Academy hadn’t been taking proper care of his daughter and that Jonathan was here to remove her. He hastened to reassure the headmistress.
“I’ve no doubt that Mr. McGann had full faith in you and your school, as do I. Indeed,” he said as he refolded the will and returned it to his jacket pocket, “my visit today is little more than a formality—”
“A formality?” she cut in, her gray eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“I am on my way to London for a brief visit with my sisters, then I am traveling on to Johannesburg. Mr. McGann had business interests in South Africa that I must see to. I expect to be there for some time.”
“I see.” She fell silent, considering this information. “You do not intend to take the girl with you, I trust?”
He shook his head. “I am a stranger to her. Uprooting her, removing her from the only home she has ever known on the strength of one meeting would be traumatic, even cruel. And what would I do with her? She cannot accompany me to the mining towns of South Africa.”
“Certainly not,” the headmistress agreed, her voice prim.
“Therefore, I think it would be best for her to remain here for the time being. If that is acceptable?”
