Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,48

shook his head. “That shift was assigned to the recruit. Richards replaced Goodridge after he hurt his leg.”

“And did he report in?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Get onto Richards right away. I want to know where Virden took the girl and where he left her. Make this a priority, Black. I must see to my horse. Good day to you.”

“Good day, milord.”

Deeply troubled, Reade entered the stables and dismounted. What was Virden doing at the Dalrymple’s for so long? And while Joanna was away? Might he have business with her father? He had discounted Dalrymple as being involved. Was he judging the man by what he knew of his daughter? Dash it all, was he becoming a besotted fool?

As he worked on Ash with the curry brush, he considered Dalrymple. He didn’t like Reade, that was obvious. Reade hadn’t discovered the reason. Her father seemed an amiable fellow if Reade was any judge. Would he be able to fool his daughter, should he be caught up in something as seedy as this?

While it seemed unlikely, for all her spirited intelligence, Joanna was an innocent. There was much beyond her realm of experience. Did she understand what could have happened to these young women? That Charlotte, even if found, would no longer be the same girl. While he hoped to find the lass quickly and restore her to her family, she had disappeared days ago, which did not bode well for the condition he would find her in, if he found her.

And if this ended badly? Would Joanna forgive him? She seemed to put so much faith in him. That he would care so much, he would never have believed a few short months ago. He allowed himself a pleasurable thought that they might come to mean more to each other. Joanna in his bed. Smiling at him every morning. Fool! He did not deserve such a woman. With a pat on Ash’s glossy neck, he left the stall. He’d been fooling himself. He would never sink so low as to involve her in his life. That would be the worst thing he ever did.

Chapter Thirteen

Jo waited in the parlor for her father to come home. He smiled as he entered and drew off his gloves. He seemed very much a man about Town these days. “Did you enjoy your ride in the park, Jo? Mrs. Millet and I spent the afternoon at the museum. There’s a splendid display of silver inkpots.” He took a chair beside her and described some of the exhibits.

She didn’t mention meeting Reade because he would only disapprove. To keep a secret from him made her uncomfortable. “It sounds wonderful, Papa. There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Remember when Sally said the man who abducted her smelled of licorice? You went to ask the butler about it.”

He nodded. “Spears confirmed my view of absinthe. Some men prefer it to whisky or brandy. It’s expensive. Sally thought the man was a gentleman, did she not?”

“She said so. Lord Reade should be told.”

He frowned. “Absinth is not uncommon. And what might the baron have to do with this?”

“I think he works for the government, Papa.”

Her father raised his eyebrows. “What area of government?”

“An investigative agent.”

“An agent for the Crown? Has he admitted as much?”

“No. I don’t expect he would admit it. I’ve asked for his help to find Charlotte because Mrs. Lincoln refuses to contact Bow Street. She fears a scandal.”

“Forget the baron. Agents are a disreputable lot. They kill people. And I’ve heard unsavory things about Reade.”

Reade was a good man. If he weren’t, she would know it in her heart. “Lord Reade would not have done what Mrs. Millet accused him of, Papa.”

“Mary told you, did she? I can’t imagine what reason Mrs. Millet would have to lie to me, can you?”

Jo shook her head miserably.

“You are susceptible. These men hold a certain fascination for many women. I’ve seen how they watch him at balls. I insist you avoid him.”

“But, Papa…”

He stood. “If he finds your friend, Miss Graham, well and good, but he does not need your help.”

He walked out the door.

Jo stared despondently after him. This was most unlike her father. He was usually good-tempered. But once he made up his mind about something, he seldom changed it. He would never accept Reade as a son-in-law. Not that a proposal was forthcoming.

A half-hour passed while she sat deep in thought, plucking at the fringe on a cushion. It worried Reade when she told