“I have other jewels? Can I see them?”
“Hmm...” His fingers drummed on the box. “I’m not sure I should. I am a tyrant, after all.”
“You’re impossible, that’s what you are,” she cried, jumping up to circle the table, heedless of the four people across the room who had now stopped their card game and were staring at her in surprise. “Oh, do let me see them, do.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Relenting, he slid his hand away and let her open the box.
“Why, they look like pebbles,” she said in surprise, peering at the stones nestled in the various velvet-lined partitions. “And bits of colored glass.”
“These are uncut gems. Those,” he added, pointing to one pile of stones, “are diamonds.”
“Diamonds,” cried Carlotta, setting down her cards and rising to her feet. “I have to see those.”
Irene and her husband stood up as well. Ignoring David’s protest that they were in the middle of a bridge hand, the other three crossed the room to examine the gems.
“An impressive collection,” the duke commented, leaning over his wife’s shoulder. “Amethysts, opals, star garnets—” He broke off and looked at Jonathan. “I can store them in the ducal vault downstairs, if you like. I keep Irene’s jewels there.”
“That’s just what I was hoping. Thank you.”
“We’ll put them there tonight, once the ladies have had a good look at them. But, really, what you ought to do is take them to a jeweler and have them cut. I recommend Fossin and Morel in New Bond Street.”
“Jonathan?” Marjorie’s voice drew his attention. “Where’s the Rose of Shoshone?”
He lifted the top tray of the box, revealing the Tiffany box nestled in the compartment beneath. Setting aside the tray, he pulled out the box, removed the lid, and held up the necklace for their inspection.
Carlotta and Irene both gasped, but it was Marjorie who held his attention. Her pink lips were curved in that mysterious smile, and in her dark eyes was a hint of the sensual fire he’d awakened when he’d put this necklace around her throat, the fire that had scorched him yesterday afternoon and was still threatening to flare up again. He tamped it down, however, reminding himself that Marjorie was right.
Being friends was the only choice he had, and yet, as he thought of that kiss and all the passion it had awakened, Jonathan feared being her friend was going to be like walking a tightrope over a thousand-foot drop. Very tricky, indeed.
Chapter 15
Marjorie’s first fortnight in England went by in a frenzy of activity. As planned, she was taken to the famous Jay’s, and despite the limited choice of colors and the necessity of trimming every garment in black, she was able to order a surprising number of day frocks, walking suits, and evening gowns she liked.
Even Carlotta was sympathetic upon learning of the travesties Lady Stansbury’s maid had committed upon Marjorie’s underclothes, and a full day was spent with various corsetieres and other modistes of lingerie.
She was also taken to a dizzying array of milliners, glovers, and cobblers. She bought fans, handkerchiefs, and handbags. She ordered calling cards and stationery. She visited Harrods, treating herself with the best French-milled soaps and lotions her money could buy. As Irene had promised, they hired her a true lady’s maid, and though Miss Gladys Semphill was surprisingly dour in her own appearance, she proved an excellent lady’s maid with such a talent for hair that she was able to transform Marjorie’s rebellious red mop into a mass of soft, perfect curls every time she dressed it.
Irene and Carlotta took her to call upon the duke’s sisters, Angela and Sarah, as well as many other acquaintances. They also called upon Baroness Vasiliev, who expressed great delight at meeting the duchess again after so many years and endured Carlotta’s somewhat disapproving scrutiny with cheerful indifference, for which Marjorie was grateful.
She wrote to her friends from schooldays, and found, much to her delight, that two of them were in London for the season. Dulci was now a peeress, having married Baron Outram in April, and Jenna had just become engaged to a certain Colonel Westcott, the second son of the Earl of Balvoir. Plans were made for tea at Claridge’s, so Marjorie could be told all the romantic details.
She saw Jonathan at breakfast and dinner, but seldom in between, for all she’d done so far was shop and pay calls, and despite Clara’s teasing suggestion that he go along, he had emphatically negated the possibility.
So, no one was more surprised than Marjorie when, on her fifteenth day in London, she and her shopping companions spied him in Bond Street.
Clara, who had taken a day away from the paper to accompany them, was the first to see him. “Why, ladies, would you look at that!” she cried, stopping on the sidewalk and bringing her companions to a halt. “Irene, I do believe I saw our brother going into Fossin and Morel’s across the street. I think we all know what he’s doing there,” she went on, turning to give Marjorie a wink. “Shall we go and see?”
This suggestion met with eager assent, and after several minutes of navigating their way across the crowded street, the four ladies entered the elegant premises of one of London’s finest jewelers.
Jonathan was nowhere to be seen, but a dark, well-dressed gentleman hastened forward. “Your Grace,” he greeted Irene, hands spread in a gesture of welcome. “And Viscountess Galbraith and Lady David, too. How delightful.”
“Good day, Mr. Prescott,” said Irene. “I believe my brother is here?”
“Mr. Deverill? Yes, indeed. An affable gentleman, Your Grace, with a most remarkable collection of stones.” The urbane Mr. Prescott’s dark face lit up with the interest of his profession. “Diamonds, peridot... some exceptional star garnets and black opals. Yes, most remarkable.”
“This is my brother’s ward, Miss Marjorie McGann. The stones belonged to her late father.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Prescott turned to her. “I do hope you will decide to have the stones set, Miss McGann. Some of them promise to be exquisite when cut.”
