ended in a smelly ditch.
“I must have made a mistake,” Sally said dispiritedly. “The houses were better than these. And there was a big oak tree.”
“Well, it was worth a try,” Jo said, disappointed. For one exciting moment, she believed they were close.
With a muttered complaint, the jarvey turned the horses. They passed the old man again and continued on toward Oxford Street.
Jo had decided to give up and return to the shops when, at the next cross street, a curricle approached them, drawn by a pair of thoroughbred gray horses.
Reade, in his dark greatcoat and beaver, drew up beside them. A boot on the footboard, he reined in his horses close to them. His expression was thunderous.
“Oh my,” Aunt Mary said faintly. “Your father won’t be happy about this, Jo.”
Reade’s stern gaze sought Jo’s. He raised his hat and offered a brief greeting. “Have you lost your way? May I assist you?”
“We are going to Golden Square,” Jo said weakly, deciding she may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, for she had broken her promise to him. “We want to see the statue in the park there. Some believe it is King George II, while others say it’s of King Charles II.” She was glad she’d listened to her father discussing this very thing with Mary some days ago.
Unconvinced, Reade eyed Jo skeptically. “Parts of Soho are not safe. You are quite a distance from Golden Square. I assume your jarvey knows the way?”
Fortunately, the jarvey, who was apparently losing patience, took umbrage at Reade’s suggestion that he was lacking. “I do, as it happens,” he said in a heavily ironic tone and slapped the reins.
“Entirely unnecessary, but thank you for your concern,” Jo called as their hackney moved away from him.
Reade did not try to follow them. Jo breathed a sigh of relief but expected to hear more of this when she saw him again. She frowned. Must she be made to feel guilty and have to explain herself? He was overbearing. It was a good thing he didn’t want to marry her. She sighed and looked back, but he had ridden on.
“Fancy meeting Lord Reade here,” Aunt Mary said. “If he says it’s not safe, I am sure he must be right. We should return to the shops in Piccadilly.”
“And we will, shortly. Forget Golden Square, please, jarvey. Turn around if you please,” she instructed.
She could not make out his reply, but she suspected it was disrespectful.
How odd to meet Reade. Did he think Charlotte might be here somewhere? Or was he seeing to some other matter?
“We shall go back to the old peddler with his dog,” Jo shouted. “And this time, jarvey, turn left.”
The road they took was busy with wagons and drays traveling up and down. “I remember this,” Sally said. “If it’s the road we came down, we traveled a long way.”
They continued for about twenty minutes, crossing Oxford Street. Just as Jo decided they were on a wild goose chase, Sally swiveled on the seat. “That graveyard we just passed. I remember it.” She pointed to a narrow road veering off to the right. “Go down that lane!”
Jo gave instructions, and the jarvey obeyed without comment. The lane led them to a cluster of houses set in gardens.
“There’s the tree,” Sally yelled.
A gigantic oak grew at the side of the road. “Are you sure, Sally?” Jo asked. “One tree might look like another.”
“I am. The lady who helped me came out of that house over there. Should I thank her, do you think?”
“One can’t just call, it would be bad manners,” Aunt Mary said, peering at the two-story house which sat at the end of a short drive with stables behind it. “Only fancy, Jo. That house has yellow-painted shutters and white flowering camellias in pots beside the front door, just like Mrs. Millet’s.”
Jo stared at the dwelling. Surely, it was too much of a coincidence. Was this Mrs. Millet’s house?
“Did you see Mrs. Millet when she came to our house, Sally?”
“No, Miss Jo.”
“What was the lady like who helped you?”
“I was so distressed I remember little about her. She wasn’t young and had fairish hair.”
“Did you give her our address?”
“She asked for it. She wanted to pay the jarvey.”
“We’d best go home.” It suddenly occurred to Jo that someone inside the house might see them.
Jo looked back as the hackney pulled away from the curb. Surely it couldn’t be. If Mrs. Millet had assisted Sally, she would have