“Where did this newfound wealth come from?”
She gaped at him. What business was it of his? She was so flabbergasted, she rushed to her father’s defense. “He was the beneficiary of a distant relative’s will. You might consult our solicitor if you doubt us.”
He ignored her, not doubt considering her outburst unreasonable. “Your father has been to London before?”
“Many times, I imagine. But some years ago. Why do you ask?”
The couple abandoned the gazebo. Laughing together, they came toward them on the path. After they passed, Reade took her arm and drew her reluctantly along with him up the rise. “I apologize for these questions, but I need to know.”
“You might tell me why,” she said again. “My family must be the most uninteresting people in London. My father is a decent man,” she added grittily.
“I don’t doubt he is.”
“You are most mysterious, Lord Reade.”
“I fear you must find me so.”
Jo scowled at him. “I do.”
They had entered the gazebo. Reade leaned his back against the rail, his eyes resting on her. How graceful he was, his long limbs arranged in a casual pose. Except that he was more like a tightly wound spring, she thought distractedly. And this was not a casual conversation between two guests at a party. What might he possibly want from her?
“Tell me more about your father. How long did he have the haberdashery store?”
She turned away from his penetrating gaze. It made her nervous and defensive.
Gripping the rail in her gloved fingers, she gazed out over the gardens, a web of luminescent light and shadow where the lamps and moonlight couldn’t reach. “Papa bought a farm after he left the navy, but his injured back made such work difficult. He had fallen from the mast onboard ship when he was young. He sold the farm and bought the shop ten years ago.” Her polite voice defied her churning thoughts. As if she chatted to the vicar after church. But a sense of foreboding sent a warning to her brain.
“How do you know the Virdens?”
She swung around to face him. “The Virdens? Who are they?”
“You claim not to know Virden?” He sounded skeptical.
“No. I’ve never met the man. Should I have? Is it important?”
He had moved closer, his eyes searching hers. “Perhaps not,” he said inscrutably.
“Then I am relieved, for I cannot supply you with the answers you seek and feel as if I’ve been playing a rather poor game of charades.”
He laughed. “Then, I apologize again.”
“I should like you to tell me what lies behind this inquisition.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Is it as bad as that?”
“It is confusing and disturbing.”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to reveal my reasons. Shall we return to the house?”
Jo narrowed her eyes at him. “Very well.” She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to question him further about his interest in her father. But it would be a waste of time.
Descending the slope, they walked in silence until they reached the pretty water feature set in the carpet of green lawn. Moonlight made diamond ornaments of the water droplets as they fell. Jo watched them, attempting to order her thoughts.
“It’s a shame,” Reade murmured close beside her.
A frisson of awareness rose up her neck. “What is?” She turned, caught by the softer note in his voice.
“A beautiful night, a beautiful lady.” His voice was seductive, making heat ripple under her skin. “Any man in his right mind would steal a kiss.”
“Perhaps you’re not in your right mind, sir,” Jo said, fighting desire while still unsettled about his questioning. “I can make no sense of you tonight.”
He tilted her chin up with his palm. His thumb slid along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth. She stilled, and her lips parted.
“It will all come to light, eventually.”
Jo swallowed. “What will?”
He dropped his hand. “The truth, Miss Dalrymple.”
“I think we should return to the house,” Jo said, turning away.
“Yes. Regrettably, I must agree with you.”
Suddenly furious with him, she balked at taking his arm but was obliged to when a group of people appeared on the path.
Really, the man was impossible! She had been right in her first assessment of Reade. He was involved in something serious and possibly dangerous. But what on earth had her father to do with any of it? Did he think she hid something from him? That if he’d kissed her, she would reveal it? But he changed his mind. Decided he would learn nothing from her. It was insulting. She was not a fool. She wanted to demand Reade tell her what lay behind his questioning, but there was no point. He was as mysterious as the Pyramid of Cheops.
After they reached the terrace, Jo dropped her hand from his arm as if it burned her. “Thank you for your company, Lord Reade. I enjoyed the garden.” A group turned to observe them. Let them think what they liked, she thought crossly. “And for such an enlightening conversation.”
Reade raised an eyebrow, bowed, and left her.
Jo entered the house and went in search of her father. He’d finished his card game and now sat with Aunt Mary.
Jo hurried over to him. “Papa, do you know a Mr. Virden?”
“That’s odd. Mr. Cartwright just asked me the same thing. I’ve never met the fellow.
“Is he here tonight?” Did you want me to meet him?”
“No, Papa.”
“What is this all about, Jo?” Aunt Mary asked.
“I don’t know, but Lord Reade seemed to think Papa knew him,” Jo said. “He is obviously mistaken.”
“Yes. My memory for names is excellent. I would remember Mr. Virden,” her father said. “We must find our hostess and thank her for such a pleasant evening. Aunt Mary wishes to retire. She is a little weary.”
“Yes, I am too, Papa. I will say goodnight to Letty and Mr. Cartwright.”
There was no sign of Reade as she made her way through the reception rooms. She would have enjoyed demanding he apologize for grilling her in that fashion, now that she was certain he’d been wrong. But it gave her pause, for why did he think it?
Reade went in search of Cartwright to discover if he’d had better luck with Dalrymple than Reade had done with his daughter. He understood why Miss Dalrymple had been angry and defensive for her father’s sake. It was regrettable. He wished he could ease her mind, but he needed to know why Virden visited their home. It seemed clear Joanna knew nothing about Virden. The alternative that she might and was covering up for her father didn’t bear thinking about. Reade dismissed the notion. He didn’t want to believe she was capable of doing that. But he must not allow her allure to cause him to lose focus.
Dammit, he still wanted to kiss away the worry he’d seen on her pretty face. But one kiss might lead to more, and then where would he be? Far wiser, surely to leave Miss Joanna Dalrymple alone wherever possible.
And he fully intended to do so.
“I mentioned the man’s name and drew a blank,” Cartwright said. “He either doesn’t know him, or he has the best poker face in London.”
Who was Virden meeting at Lord Pleasant’s house? At some stage, Reade would need to confront Joanna’s father with the evidence of Virden’s comings and goings and demand an explanation as unpalatable as this would be.
It was frustrating how every avenue led them to a dead end. There was no evidence pointing to the man behind this gang. If they didn’t get him, he could continue to operate even with the rest of them in jail. It was not these few felons they were after. They wanted their leader, who had tentacles that stretched far beyond England’s shores.
Chapter Nine
Aunt Mary was unwell with a headache the next day. Jo’s father was engaged in writing letters home, hoping for news about the new owner of the shop and Sooty.
Idleness never appealed to Jo, and as the efficient staff took
care of everything, she decided on an excursion to the Pantheon Bazaar in Oxford Street. Surely even Reade would not consider it reckless, as she and Aunt Mary had visited Piccadilly without harassment a few days earlier. Elegant carriages had filled the street while well-dressed women browsed the shops with their liveried servants.
Jo descended from the hackney with Sally onto Oxford Street, right outside the splendid building of the Pantheon Bazaar. Exotic smells greeted them as they walked into the grand entry with a high arch above. Any lingering doubt Reade might have instilled in her vanished as they joined the others roaming the shops. Every sort of item one could wish for was on display, novelties, jewelry, and furs. Jo tried on a becoming wide-brimmed hat trimmed with cerulean blue ribbons and promptly bought it, together with a straw bonnet decorated with artificial primroses for Sally to wear to church.
Another hour passed as they purchased more items. When Jo opened her coin purse to pay for a tortoiseshell comb decorated with pearls, she found she only had enough money left for the hackney ride home. She put the comb down and closed her purse.
“I have never seen the like of these shops, Miss Jo,” Sally said, who seemed thrilled with her new hat.
“I intend to come back soon,” Jo said, admiring the wares in shops as they passed. They carried the milliners’ hat boxes and their other packages through the bazaar, searching for the way out. The arched windows revealed the lowering sun above the rooftops. How quickly the hours had passed. Her father would be anxious.
She spied a door leading outside. “We’d best find a hackney.”
The street was unfamiliar. “This is not Oxford Street, where we came in.” She spied a signpost. “It’s Marlborough Street.” There were no hackneys in sight. “We might have better luck around the corner where there’s a hackney stop.”
They passed young gentlemen who lounged about in conversation or sauntered up and down. Dressed in tight coats, some wore canary-yellow trousers, others striped waistcoats, their cravats elaborate creations.
“My father calls them coxcombs,” Jo murmured.
A gentleman with a purple and yellow paisley waistcoat raised his quizzing glass to ogle them.
Jo flushed. “How rude,” she said under her breath, frowning at a gentleman whose collar was so high he could barely turn his head. He still viewed their progress as they hurried along.
Loaded up with parcels, they reached the corner. Jo breathed more easily when a hackney appeared at the top of the street. “Wait here with the boxes, Sally. I’ll hail that jarvey.”
The jarvey ignored her and drove his horse past. Jo dropped her arm. Several vehicles passed up and down the busy street. When another hackney appeared, Jo, determined not to let him escape, rushed onto the road. She waved her handkerchief as the carriage advanced down the street, the horse at a fast trot.
The jarvey drew his horse to a stop some yards further along. Jo hurried to give him directions. When she turned back, there was no sign of Sally. Their hat boxes and parcels were still on the pavement where she’d left them. Fancy leaving them like that. Annoyed, Jo ran over and gathered them up, expecting Sally to emerge from a shop. She’d barely turned her back for a minute. Where had the girl got to?
The jarvey yelled at her. He was losing his patience. Jo smiled sweetly and held up her hand, then darted into a nearby shop. She came out a few minutes later, none the wiser. The shopkeeper had not seen Sally.
Jo ran to where the men still loitered about and approached the exquisitely dressed young gentleman in the purple and yellow waistcoat who dabbed at his mouth with a lace-edged handkerchief.
“Have you seen my maid, sir?”
He waved the handkerchief, releasing a cloying scent. “Yes.”
“Quickly. Tell me! Where did she go?”
He grinned. “She walked around the corner into Oxford Street with you.”
The man standing next to him guffawed.
“Oh!” With a glare, Jo ran back to where she’d last seen Sally, gasping, boxes dropping from her nerveless fingers. Sally had not returned. Now thoroughly alarmed, Jo retraced her steps, her throat tight. What could have happened to her? It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air.
With a curse, the jarvey drove on, leaving Jo alone, her mind blank with confusion. Her chest heaved. Could it be as Reade had said? Had a procurer taken Sally?
Fighting tears, she stood unable to think as pedestrians pushed past her. Some glanced at her curiously, but no one stopped to ask if they could help. Jo waited. A sharp wind blew dark clouds overhead. Rain sent people scurrying. Water dripped off the brim of her hat, her parcels in danger of slipping from her shaky hands. Was she panicking unnecessarily? She tried to think. Sally must have dashed into a shop for something she’d seen and become lost. The maid would find her way back to Upper Brook Street. She seemed a capable, sensible girl.
When a hackney stopped for her, she climbed inside, damp and shivering.
Arriving home, she paid him and ran up the path, her arms full of parcels. The butler answered the knocker. “Mr. Spears,” she gasped, gazing into eyes, which bore a distant expression. “Has my maid, Sally, arrived home?”
“I couldn’t say, Miss Dalrymple. Servants do not enter through the front door if they know what is good for them.”
With a frown, Jo dumped the packages and boxes at his feet and flew upstairs, and finding no sign of Sally, ran down to the servants’ quarters. Two servants sat on the sofa in the servants’ hall, resting between chores.
“Sally is not here, Miss Dalrymple,” Agnes said.
“I haven’t set eyes on Sally since she left with you this morning,” the housekeeper confirmed, looking surprised. “Not like that girl to wander off. She has a good head on her shoulders.”
That was what Jo thought, and it only frightened her. She climbed the stairs, weeping. Her father sat with Aunt Mary in the parlor. Between choking sobs and hiccoughs, Jo explained what had happened.
“My goodness, my girl, there’s no need for this,” he said soothingly, patting her on the back. “She has merely gone off on an errand of her own. You didn’t see where she went?”
“No,” Jo wailed. “Sally waited on the pavement with the packages while I went out onto the road to hail a hackney. One jarvey refused to stop,” she confessed as her father’s eyebrows lowered. “I stopped the next by waving my handkerchief.”
“Sally will know the way home, Jo.” Aunt Mary said. “She is more familiar with London streets than we are.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Jo grasped it eagerly, desperate to believe it.
But the hours passed, and Sally did not come home.
They dispatched a servant to search the area where Sally disappeared. He returned two hours later with the distressing news that no one had seen a young blonde maid.
Jo’s dinner sat untouched before her. As soon as she could, she went to her bedchamber and sat on the window seat watching the street. Her aunt brought a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits. She sat with Jo until she drank the whole cup and nibbled a biscuit and then urged her to get into bed. There was nothing she could do until morning, and Sally may well be home by then.
Heavy with exhaustion, Jo slid beneath the covers, but her mind was too busy for sleep. She kept returning to when Sally disappeared. There had been a lot of traffic on the road, she remembered. She barely took notice of the carriages which passed her, so intent was she in gaining the jarvey’s attention. Surely someone would have seen something? She would return in the morning and make more inquiries, although in her heart she knew it was useless. Sally was not there. Where was she now? In danger? In pain? Or…worse? Her throat tight, Jo turned her face to the pillow and wept.
She had finally dropped off to sleep. When she woke, it seemed as if a lead weight had attached itself to her spine. She dressed quickly and ran up to the attics to the room Sally shared with Agnes, but Sally had not slept in her bed.
Jo went straight to the servants’ hall, hoping
she might have just arrived. She had not. No one had seen her. All the servants talked about it. The scullery maid suggested Sally had gone home to the country. “Some girls don’t like it ’ere,” she said. “Sally seemed happy here, though. Oh, I hope she’s all right.”
“London can be dangerous for the unwary,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Cross, said grimly. “I advise all my maids to be careful. A girl can get in trouble in the blink of an eye.”
A servant went out again to search the area. He came back and shook his head.
By luncheon, Jo was frantic. She roamed the dining room, unable to sit and eat. Who could she turn to for help? They must call a constable, but would he be able to help her, when Sally vanished yesterday? One name came into her mind. Reade. She hadn’t forgiven him for interrogating her. But she still trusted Reade to accomplish what others could not.
A maid set plates of chicken soup before them. “I must speak to Lord Reade,” Jo said, “The baron will help us.” He might disapprove of her, but that hardly mattered if he found Sally.
“Why do you think that gentleman can help, Jo?” Aunt Mary asked. “You’ve only danced with him once, and a few days ago, you said you found him annoying,”
“And we don’t have his address,” her father added, picking up his spoon.
“No, but the Cartwrights live in Grosvenor Square, which isn’t far from here. We pass the square every day.”
“Very well. I shan’t risk this interfering with my digestion.” Her father put down his napkin and, with a regretful glance at the soup, rose from the table. “I shall send a note to the Cartwrights.”
“No! We must go to see them, Papa,” Jo said. “They may not get the note for hours!”
“One doesn’t just visit people unannounced, Jo,” he said with a perplexed frown. “The Cartwrights are decent people, so I suppose they won’t mind. But I’m not sure how they can help find your maid, do you?”
Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower Book 2) Page 9
