Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower #2) - Maggi Andersen Page 0,51
mentioned the episode to her father. Jo must ask him. And she needed to speak to Reade.
It was the fifth brothel Reade had visited and the last for the day. He was weary and short-tempered when the madame, a drunkard with dyed red hair, tried to entice him to go with one of her girls. “I am looking for a tall, fair-haired young woman on the slim side.”
“Skinny girls ain’t always so popular love,” she said, eyeing him doubtfully. “Not much up top. We have some curvaceous beauties.”
“No.”
Her eyes took on a wary look. “Can’t help you then, sir. Best you take your business elsewhere.”
A bruiser bestirred himself from a chair and stalked over, adopting a menacing attitude.
Reade pulled back his coat to reveal his pistol. “If the girl is here, I will find her and throw you both into Newgate,” he said. “Your choice. If you give her up and keep your mouth shut, I’ll go easy with you.”
“No need for that.” She lurched over and clutched his lapel, eyeing him owlishly, breathing gin in his face. “Who says I got ’er?”
“A hunch.” He stepped back and pulled his pistol from his breeches, cocking it. “A thorough search will prove it either way.”
The bouncer’s eyes widened, and he shuffled away, while the madame staggered over and sank down on her chair, folded her arms, and glared at him. “Upstairs, end of the hall on the right. If she’s the one you want, I expect payment.”
“You’ll be lucky not to be in jail by nightfall.”
Reade took the rickety stairs two at a time. At the end of the hall, he found the door locked. He put his shoulder to it and heaved, bursting inside the dim room. They’d pasted brown paper over the window. The room smelled of slops and rancid food. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he made out the still form huddled on a grubby mattress on the floor. He ran over and kneeled beside her and eased the long blonde tresses away from her face, which was pale and dirty.
“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
“I’m here to help you,” he said gently. “Are you Charlotte Graham?”
She raised herself on her elbows. “I am. Who are you, sir?”
“A friend.”
How did you find me?”
“A guess. Now let’s get you out of here. Have they been feeding you?”
“Forcing me to eat,” she said shakily, leaning heavily on him. “They planned to send me somewhere.”
“We’ll talk later. Can you walk?”
An arm around her waist, Reade helped her out into the corridor. She stumbled on the stairs. Reade picked her up and carried her down. A shambolic group of women waited in the hall below.
A woman in a grubby dressing gown leered at him. “Miserable thing she is. I can give you a better time, love.”
Reade turned to the madame. “I know who brought this young lady here. If he learns she’s gone, I’ll come and deal with you. You may not make it as far as jail.”
He shouldered his way outside and filled his lungs with fresher air.
“Who are you, kind sir?” Charlotte asked. “How did you…”
“My name is Reade.” He tucked her into the curricle and covered her knees with a rug. “But you must thank your friend, Joanna Dalrymple.”
“Jo,” she gasped out. Her shoulders shuddered, and she covered her face with both hands. “How good she is.”
“Yes, indeed.” He took up the reins. Jo. It suited her. He was feeling a good deal better as he drove the curricle out of the ramshackle streets. If he’d blown the investigation and they lost the leader of the gang, so be it. This young woman was going home. He glanced at her sitting quietly beside him. “Are you all right?”
She dropped her hands and gave him a lopsided smile. “I am. I can’t thank you enough.”
“No need.”
“Mr. Virden left me there.”
“I know.”
“Will you arrest him?”
“In due course. He doesn’t act alone. You might help us.”
“I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you want.”
“We’ll talk about it later. I’m taking you home, but I don’t want anyone but Mrs. Lincoln to know you’re there. We’ll keep it a secret for now.”
She shivered and cast him an anxious glance. “Do you think they’ll come to find me?”
“I’ll place a guard to watch the house.”
He handed her his handkerchief. Charlotte dabbed her eyes and fell back against the seat, exhausted, silent tears running down her face.
Reade clamped down his jaw and prayed for the opportunity to take his fists to Crispin Virden.