Page 14 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

The smile vanished from his eyes. “If you are unaware that some of the gentlemen here tonight with perfect manners are not nearly so polite outside of a ballroom, I should warn you of it.”

Jo gazed at him steadily. “Thank you for the warning. But it is entirely unnecessary. I am a fair judge of character.” She firmed her lips. She wanted to say she included him in those gentlemen he warned her against, but it would be entirely too impolite.

He swiftly swept her into a series of turns, making her breath catch and her heart hammer. When she could regain her breath, she expected him to continue in the same outrageous vein, as if she were a silly little country miss who must be taught about the big bad city. She was prepared to take him to task, but he smiled. “So, Miss Dalrymple. What part of England do you hail from?”

She eyed him warily. “Marlborough, my lord.”

“I have passed through it, traveling to and from Bath. Never had cause to stop there.”

His comment pricked her. “Many do, sir,” she said, raising her chin. “Travelers stay at the excellent coaching inn to change carriage horses and tarry awhile.” She was about to mention how popular her father’s shop had been but resisted the impulse. She would be deeply disappointed if he mocked her.

“I prefer to travel on horseback.”

“But you were in a coach when I first saw you.” She blushed, realizing she’d given herself away.

“You remember me?” A smile tugged at his lips, and his hand tightened, reminding her of what a strong and vital man he was.

She tried to ignore the thrill prickling her spine. “But of course,” she said with false gaiety. “It was my first view of London. I recall every detail of the busy streets, the traffic, and the hawkers. So unlike the country.”

“Are you comparing me to a hawker, Miss Dalrymple?”

She laughed. “I was merely describing my first impressions.”

“The coach was an unfortunate necessity. I journeyed from the far north. A frustratingly slow way to travel. I don’t care to be shut inside a carriage for hours, relying on the expertise of my coachman, although he is a competent fellow. Sometimes I can bear it no longer and climb up on the box to take the reins.”

“What took you north, sir?”

“My home lies on the west coast, in Cumbria.”

A shadow passed over his features, making her wonder what caused such a sad thought. “And you are pleased to return to London?”

He gazed down at her. “Yes.”

She waited, but as he made no further comment, she peeked up at him, taking in the square shape of his jaw. He had an impatient nature, she decided. His character was entirely unfathomable, for he revealed only a glimpse of himself, like ice floating on the Thames. A man with secrets, perhaps. Jo compressed her lips, and he glanced down at her, a query in his eyes.

“I fear you do not approve of me, Miss Dalrymple.”

“I don’t know you, my lord.”

“But you feel that if you did, you would disapprove of

me,” he said, humor again sparking in his brown eyes.

Jo had to smile. “That is entirely unfair. You are putting words in my mouth.”

“And a lovely mouth it is, too.” He lowered his glance, making her tremble.

She breathed in deeply. He was a rake. And she was quite definitely out of her depth.

It would be far wiser to choose a gentleman like Mr. Ollerton, who was polite and agreeable. There would be no surprises. Reade would never give her a moment’s quiet. It was unlikely to be a decision she would ever have to make. And that did not please her as much as it should.

Reade effortlessly turned her again, reminding her of his strength, which she suspected went beyond his well-muscled frame to the core of who he was. Yet, he was mindful in the way he held her and guided their steps while the other dancers swirled around them, the ladies’ gowns a blur of color, their voices polite murmurs as they passed, leaving flowery scents in their wake.

Patently aware of his unsettling masculinity, Jo’s heart fluttered oddly. What was it about such men women found so intriguing? She had not thought herself one of those women and was a little shamefaced to discover it. There was a commanding air of authority and a hint of steel beneath Mr. Cartwright’s exquisite manners, too. Jo felt less chagrinned to realize that Letty also preferred such a man.

She had spied shadows in Reade’s dark gaze. If he had been a soldier, he would not have escaped the dreadful bloodshed and loss of many of his comrades. He would more than likely find her dull, she supposed, her life had been so uneventful.

“You have grown quiet, Miss Dalrymple. Shall we discuss the latest affair to rock the ton?” he asked quizzically.

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