Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,47
head, her heart, and her dreams.
“Such a pleasant gentleman.” Aunt Mary had taken up her knitting. “I hope you approve of me telling him about Miss Graham. When he stood before me looking so dreadfully disappointed, I quaked and found I had nothing in my head! And then the idea came to me. For one should always stick as close to the truth as one can, my father always said.”
“That was wise, Aunt. Where is Papa?”
“Mrs. Millet invited him to view the silverware gallery at the museum, as your father has an interest in engraved pieces.” Aunt Mary’s needles flew, the gloves she knitted taking shape. “I believe he grows fond of the lady, Jo.”
“It has occurred to me, too,” Jo admitted.
“I should be happy for him,” her aunt said. “But I cannot like it.”
Jo had been caught up with thoughts of Reade. Her aunt’s words brought her back with a jolt. “You dislike Mrs. Millet?”
“I can’t imagine her living in Marlborough. She seems very much at home here in London.” Aunt Mary looked up, concerned. “She told me about her cozy cottage here and how she loves her garden, especially her potted camellias. They are in flower. As the plant rarely does well in the city, she considers it quite an achievement. I just can’t imagine your father being content living in London, can you?”
“No. He misses our home, his friends, and Sooty.” Jo sipped the tea. She found it difficult to place her father with Mrs. Millet here, or anywhere. But he may marry whomever he chose. She trusted he would be happy for her to do the same. “I must ask Papa why he doesn’t like Lord Reade,” she said, biting into a jam tartlet.
“It was something Mrs. Millet said to him.”
Jo frowned. “What was that?”
“Mrs. Millet said the baron was a heartless rake who left a young woman…” she flushed and ducked her head, “at the altar when she was expecting his child!”
“What nonsense! I don’t believe it,” Jo said promptly.
“Oh, Jo, do be careful. He could be a despicable rake.”
“He isn’t, Aunt Mary. I am not easily taken in.”
Jo would know instinctively if it were true. She could never be drawn to such a man. But why would Mrs. Millet say such a thing? Letty had warned Jo against Reade, but that was because he didn’t plan to marry. Letty would not be on such friendly terms with him if he’d behaved so immorally. And if Mrs. Millet had heard such awful gossip, then Letty would have, too.
Jo made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber. She sought peace to think about Reade. What he had told her, but also how grave he’d looked. Her musings went on to his graceful stride and the way he moved his dark head, his deep voice. His strength and the masterful way he handled the big horse. A thrill went through her as she recalled being held in his muscular arms. But even in her dreams, she could not forget that he was merely intent on keeping her safe from harm.
When Jo entered her bedchamber, Sally stood nervously, coiling her hands in her apron.
“Has something upset you, Sally?”
“It was that gentleman, Miss Jo.”
“Mr. Ollerton?”
Sally nodded, her eyes owlish. “I smelled it again.”
Jo frowned. “You seem upset. Come and sit down.”
Sally perched on the edge of a chair, her shoulders shaking. It had brought back her dreadful ordeal.
Jo took her hands. “Now, what was this smell?”
“Licorice.”
“Oh?” Jo thought back. “Yes, you said your captor smelled of it. But, Sally, it’s just a sweet.” She thought for a moment. Her father had asked the butler about it. He had never said why.
“I wish we knew what happened, Miss Jo. It fair gives me nightmares wondering.”
“Lord Reade will find out, Sally.”
Sally sighed. “Yes. He is such a clever gentleman.”
As Reade approached the stables where he kept Ash, a horseman rode up to him.
“Just the fellow I want to see, Black,” Reade said, steadying Ash, who took a dislike to the other horse.
“Spied you riding up Upper Brook Street while I waited for Virden,” Winston said. “I hid behind a wall. Didn’t want the young lady to see me.”
Reade’s shoulders tightened. “I want to have words with Virden. Where was he?”
“Visiting the Dalrymple’s. He was there for two hours. He’s left now. Mitchell is following him.”
“Tell me. Did he pick up a fair-haired young woman and drive her to Hyde Park three days ago? And if so, why wasn’t I told?”