Marjorie murmured something vague about a mistake in the reservations and how the purser was to arrange for her and the baroness to move into adjoining cabins today.
“Ah, well, that explains things, I suppose,” Lady Stansbury said dubiously. “In any case, with the baroness ill, it’s been decided you’ll stay with me for the rest of the voyage.”
Marjorie didn’t have to ask whose decision that had been.
“Now,” the countess continued, “I understand you’ve brought no maid with you? That’s all right,” she added as Marjorie shook her head. “My maid can easily attend you.”
“I shouldn’t wish to be any trouble,” Marjorie began, feeling a bit desperate.
“Nonsense. How much trouble could you be? You’re in mourning, so you won’t be needing to change your ensemble multiple times a day. In fact, I don’t see that you’ll be going about the ship very much at all. I hope you brought your needlework?”
Marjorie, who hated needlework, shook her head.
“Ah, well, my friends and I have plenty to keep you occupied. No idle hands in our set,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve formed a little circle for the voyage. Embroidery, knitting, a bit of gossip, that sort of thing. We’re far too old for shuffleboard and such things. And since you shan’t be doing any of those things either, it’s perfect for you to join us. And you can make yourself useful in so many ways—fetching things, you know, and reading aloud, threading needles, and winding wool.”
“How lovely.”
The countess missed the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. “In grief, it’s so important, I think, for one to keep busy.” She smiled, giving Marjorie’s arm another pat. “So, you see? You won’t be an inconvenience to anyone.”
When it came to Lady Stansbury, that might be true, but Marjorie knew that when it came to her guardian, she intended to be a great inconvenience indeed.
With Marjorie in the hands of Lady Stansbury and her friends, and with the baroness consigned to her cabin for the remainder of the voyage, Jonathan was finally able to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.
He ate a leisurely breakfast, then put himself in the hands of the ship’s barber for a shave and a proper haircut, pleasures of civilized life he hadn’t had much opportunity to enjoy during the past decade. He then sought out the purser, inquired about a tour of the ship, and—probably due to Marjorie’s mention the night before of his sister the duchess—he was immediately offered one by the purser himself.
The next few hours passed in the blink of an eye, for Jonathan found the intricate workings of an ocean liner absolutely fascinating. As a result, he missed the first seating for luncheon, and he did not see Marjorie and her slew of elderly chaperones at the second, but when he took a stroll late that afternoon, he spied her holed up in a sheltered corner of the promenade deck, suitably dressed in her black suit and an unadorned black blouse buttoned up to her chin. Around her hands, she was holding a skein of wool so that her chaperone could wind the yarn into a ball.
“Ladies,” he said, doffing his hat and giving her a smile as he went by. Marjorie gave one in return, but he wasn’t the least bit fooled by it, for he could feel her gaze boring into his back as he walked on.
He did feel rather sorry for her, surrounded as she was by women at least four decades older than she, but he couldn’t afford to soften, even a little. If he did, she’d take full advantage of it.
With a couple hours until dinner, he decided it was an ideal time to get some work done, and he returned to his stateroom. He was soon immersed in financial statements and stock reports, but it wasn’t long before a knock on his door interrupted. “Come in,” he called, thinking only a member of ship’s staff would be knocking on his door at this time of day.
He found he was mistaken, however, for it was Marjorie who walked in, already dressed for dinner in the baroness’s scandalous black velvet gown. “We need to talk. Right now.”
Jonathan fell back in his chair with a sigh. So much for peace and quiet.
Chapter 9
Putting his ward in Lady Stansbury’s hands had enabled Jonathan to enjoy a serene, relaxed afternoon, but one look at Marjorie’s face told him that blissful interlude had just come to an end.
“Tell me,” he said as he tossed aside his pen, stood up, and turned toward her, “is invading my rooms going to become a habit with you?”
“You did say, ‘Come in,’” she pointed out as she closed the door behind her.
“So I did,” he conceded, consoling himself for the fact that Marjorie was in his cabin with the reminder that this time around, he was at least fully dressed. “What have you done with Lady Stansbury?”
“I tossed her overboard.”
A picture of that scenario came into his mind, and he almost smiled. He checked it just in time, giving her a skeptical look instead.
“It will happen,” she said, noting his expression, “if this intolerable situation is allowed to continue.”
From what he knew of Marjorie thus far, he could not becompletelysure her threat was tongue-in-cheek. “Tossing certain people overboard,” he said, giving her a meaningful glance, “is a temptation I’m coming to know rather well.”
“Oh, you poor man,” she said as she turned away and began to pace. “You’re so put upon, having to deal with me. But you have no idea what I’ve been dealing with.”
“Unless I miss my guess, you’re about to tell me. On the assumption that you did not toss her over the side, where is Lady Stansbury?”
