she was just as hopeless. She loved being in his arms, even though what passed between them was too serious for frivolity. She suspected there was always a purpose behind Reade’s actions. And she intended to find out what it was.
The glorious music swelled as they glided over the floor. Jo closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Reade’s dark brown eyes had softened. “You enjoy this piece?”
“Yes, very much.” It wasn’t the music, it was being close to him. It emboldened her to flirt a little. “I know if I close my eyes, you will keep me safe.”
Her attempt at flirtation failed, for his gaze sharpened. “On a dance floor. But keeping you safe outside of a ballroom might be harder.”
She almost gasped at the change in him. “Am I at risk of harm?”
“You, and every young woman in London.”
This was more than an idle warning. What did he refer to? She must tell him about Sally. Impossible while waltzing with him. Jo fell silent as the dance continued. Reade didn’t question her lack of conversation. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.
The dance ended.
They crossed the floor toward where Aunt Mary sat with her friend, Mrs. Butterworth. Jo’s father was talking to some people farther down the room. Who knew when she would see Reade again. She steeled herself. “My maid, Sally, was abducted from Piccadilly while we were shopping,” she said. “And before you scold me for venturing out without a proper escort, I must explain that Sally arrived home unscathed the following day.”
His hand tightened over hers, halting her. “They snatched her from the street? Was she molested?”
“No, not that. The most extraordinary thing. A man put a hood over her head and took her to a house and then…”
“Not here.” Reade took her by the elbow and led her out through the French doors. On the terrace, a cool breeze swept across her hot face. Jo noted his grim expression in consternation. Why had she told him? He was angry with her, although what right he had to be so was beyond her. It had been so frightening to lose Sally that she did feel guilty, and waited, tensing for the rebuke.
“Tell me the whole.” The concern in his dark eyes made Jo’s chest tighten and fight tears. It was not what she’d expected. She related the incident while he prodded her for more information. “I don’t know where he took Sally, but the hackney bringing her home passed a sign to Soho Square.” She glanced anxiously up into his face. Reade’s heavy eyebrows lowered, his expression dark and angry. She quaked, for his reaction frightened her. “Sally has fully recovered.”
“I am sorry your maid has suffered such an ordeal.” His quiet voice surprised her. “Sally is a fortunate young woman.”
“Fortunate?” Ice trickled down Jo’s spine. She shivered. “Is she safe now?”
“Yes, it appears they don’t want her.” He moved close, and she drew in an anxious breath, finding his masculine smell reassuring. “Joanna,” he murmured, his use of her first name startling her. “You must be very careful.” His eyes were steely and yet imploring. “Promise me?”
Jo swallowed. “Yes. I wish you’d tell me why they took Sally. You know, don’t you?”
“I am fairly sure someone intended Sally for a brothel. And something made them change their mind.”
Her throat had become tight, and she struggled to speak. “But what could it be, Reade?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” He turned away from her and rested his hands on the banister rail, staring out into the dark gardens. “I intend to find out. If anything happens which worries you, send word to me at my rooms at Albany in Piccadilly.”
Jo shivered. Did he expect something bad to happen?
His long fingers curled around hers and gently squeezed. “I’ve frightened you,” he said, his voice low. “You can come to me.” He paused. “Not at Albany. Your presence at a gentleman’s residence would not go unnoticed. We must arrange a suitable meeting place.”
“But…where?” she drew out, still trembling.
“Do you ride?”
“Yes. I hadn’t planned to in London. There’s no reason why I can’t hire a couple of hacks at the Hyde Park stables for Sally and me.”
“If you need my advice, or if something important occurs, send me a feather.”
She stared at him. “A feather?”
“I’m sure your hats can spare one. Best we meet before the fashionable hour. Let’s make it noon at the Brook Street gate.”
“Yes. Thank you, that has put my