If Marjorie had truly been a cursed princess in a fairy tale, her first kiss ought to have freed her, transformed her, changed... something. But she soon discovered that in real life, things were a bit different. That kiss, like the necklace, may have brought her an exhilarating sense of feminine power, but in practical terms, it didn’t really amount to much.
During the evening that followed, Jonathan resumed avoiding her like she had the plague, Lady Stansbury continued to be awful, Baroness Vasiliev remained “seasick” in her cabin, and Marjorie’s first ocean voyage once again became mind-numbingly dull. The following day, no one aboard ship could possibly have been more delighted than she when the misty Irish coastline came into sight.
Her first view of England, however, proved to be not much of a view at all, for as theNeptuneentered the English Channel, it sailed straight into the teeth of a raging, late-spring storm. The rain was coming down in sheets as the steamship moved along the Solent, that part of the Channel between the Isle of Wight and the mainland. It had lightened to a drizzle by the time theNeptuneslid into a dock at Southampton Port, only to be replaced by fog so thick the hired carriages transporting passengers from the docks to the railway station crawled along the streets of Southampton at a snail’s pace.
The dismal weather rather tempered Marjorie’s excitement about arriving for the first time in another country, but at the train station, as Jonathan purchased their passage to London, sent telegrams of their safe arrival to his sister, Mr. Jessop, and Mrs. Forsyte, and secured a porter to transfer their luggage, Lady Stansbury chose to lighten Marjorie’s spirits.
“This is where I leave you,” the countess said as she paused with Marjorie by the ticket counters while Baroness Vasiliev joined Jonathan in the queue to purchase her own London railway fare.
“You do not go on to London?” Marjorie asked, trying to look regretful instead of relieved.
“Bah,” the countess replied, shaking her head. “I’m far too old for all that hustle and bustle. No, I’m going home to Chalton. It’s less than twenty miles from here, very close to Torquil’s ducal seat, you know. Too bad the duke and duchess aren’t in residence. If they were at Ravenwood, you and Mr. Deverill could accompany me.”
“Yes,” Marjorie murmured. “That is too bad.”
“When the duchess brings you back to Hampshire, Miss McGann, call on me at Chalton, and we shall have tea.”
Marjorie, thinking of the travesties that had been committed upon her underclothing and the autocratic orders that had been barked at her during the past six days, decided she’d rather have teeth pulled. “You’re very kind, ma’am,” she said gravely. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. You’re a sweet child, for an American. Ah, there’s Bates with our tickets, and the porter with our luggage. Not that way, young man,” she barked to the uniformed porter, jabbing her cane in the air to send him and his cart of trunks and suitcases toward the proper platform. “I’m east, not northeast.”
As the countess, her maid, and the unfortunate porter trundled off, Marjorie heard a chuckle behind her and turned to find Jonathan standing there,billetsof fare in his hand and a porter beside him with a cart of luggage. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Lady Stansbury calling you sweet.”
Making a face at him, she took the ticket he held out to her and put it in her handbag. “I’ve never been so glad to be rid of anyone in my life. That woman sucks every scrap of joy out of life.”
“Yes, well, you’ve got your baroness back now, from here to London, at least.”
“You needn’t sound so unhappy about it. Believe me, if you ever got to know her, you’d enjoy her company as much as I do.”
He gave her a skeptical look, but he had no chance to reply, for the baroness joined them at that moment and suggested they board their train, which was due to depart in half an hour.
The train was crowded, and because they were late to the platform, their choice of seats was limited, despite being in first class. They did manage to find three seats together, but the other three seats in the compartment were also occupied—one by a crusty old colonel who glared at the baroness from behind his newspaper and gave a pointed harrumph every time her garrulous voice rose above a murmur.
Jonathan also opened a newspaper, and the baroness soon gave up any attempts at conversation, pulled a book from her traveling case, and offered another one to Marjorie.
She accepted it with gratitude, glad Lady Stansbury wasn’t there to remind her that women in mourning weren’t supposed to read novels. Sadly, however, even a novel wasn’t sufficient to hold her attention, not with Jonathan sitting right across from her and that kiss still vivid in her mind.
Every time she looked up, the sight of him only a few feet away brought back those heated moments in her cabin. Even the fact that they were in a crowded train compartment could not stop her from remembering the feel of his strong arms around her and his mouth on hers, and the memory never failed to make her blush, forcing her to retreat once again behind a book she wasn’t reading.
Thankfully, the weather decided to change as they journeyed away from the coast, and as the mist and rain dissipated, Marjorie was given her first real glimpse of England. Hoping the view outside would prove a better distraction from the man opposite than the baroness’s book, she stared out at the lush green countryside and tried to imagine the wonderful new life ahead of her, a life she’d been dreaming of for three years now.
She’d been fourteen when her father had struck it rich, but she hadn’t really thought of herself as an heiress, for her plan had been to go west to be with her parent. She’d listened with interest as her friends had talked of their future in this country, of how they would do the season and marry titled peers, but back then, it had all seemed like a romantic story to her and nothing more, for she’d never seen herself as joining them.
But upon her graduation, her father’s betrayal had transformed her friends’ talk of life in the British aristocracy from a story into a plan. Their descriptions of English country life, with its stately homes, enduring traditions, and deep family loyalties, had appealed strongly to the girl who hadn’t had a real home since she was seven and whose only family member had never been loyal.
Her friends’ accounts of the London season, with its lavish balls and parties and potential suitors, had sparked excitement in the girl who’d never experienced so much as a speck of romance.
Marjorie slid another glance at Jonathan, and she was startled to find him watching her above the edge of his newspaper. She could read nothing in his face, but as his gaze lowered to her mouth, she caught her breath and wondered if he was thinking of that kiss. But then, he returned his attention to his newspaper, and Marjorie looked again at the view outside, reminding herself that there was no point to romantic contemplations about Jonathan. The life she wanted, the one to which this very train was carrying her, was in the society he abhorred, and in only two weeks, he was returning to a life she had no desire to share.
She’d soon be meeting plenty of other handsome men, some of whom would kiss her—at least, shehopedso. She’d find one to love, one who’d want to settle down with her, who’d enjoy the house parties they’d throw and the estate they’d manage and all the London seasons that lay ahead.
Jonathan might hate that sort of life, but for her, it shimmered ahead like a dazzling paradise, and now that it was three thousand miles closer, she wanted it more than ever. And yet, when she stole another glance at Jonathan across the compartment and thought of his arms around her and his mouth on hers, she had the sinking feeling that none of the men she ever met in the future would ever kiss her like he had.
Baroness Vasiliev was staying at Thomas’s Hotel, which seemed to be along their route to the duchess’s house, and she accepted Jonathan’s offer to share their taxi from Victoria Station. Upon arriving at the hotel, Jonathan directed bellmen in unloading the baroness’s luggage while she and Marjorie said their farewells.
“I am sorry I was not a better companion to you during our voyage,” the baroness said. “But the mal de mer had me in its grip...”
