Page 19 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

“I shall restrain myself.” They entered the library, and Cartwright headed for the drink’s table. He poured them each a glass of brandy, his gaze serious as he offered Reade the glass.

“Good fellow.” Reade took a long swig and resolutely pushed the lady’s heart-shaped face and big green eyes from his mind. Miss Joanna would find a husband soon enough. A decent fellow, one hoped. The prospect gave him little solace as he took his brandy snifter and wandered over to the fire. His mood had lowered, which happened too often, despite him fighting against it.

He glanced back at Cartwright, who looked to be gearing himself up for another rousing discussion on how marriage could fix all ills. “You didn’t happen to discover a pack of cards during your reconnaissance, did you? The card room is unpleasantly crowded. And I dislike watching Alvanley put another nail in the coffin of Underbank Hall.”

Chapter Six

Jo rose late, and on her way to breakfast, discovered several calling cards the butler had placed on a silver salver on the hall table. At two o’clock, four gentlemen crowded into their parlor, Lord Hislop, Mr. Ollerton, Mr. Payne, and Mr. Gregson. The two younger gentlemen were not long down from Oxford, their faces earnest and slightly pained. Jo suspected they obeyed their fathers’ orders to set themselves up with an heiress. She almost giggled at the thought. Mrs. Millet had done her job too well. Her father was hardly a nabob.

She relished the opportunity to observe Mr. Ollerton’s face. Without his mask, he was undeniably handsome. He reminded her of someone, though she couldn’t think who it could be for she knew few people in London. His eyes were hazel as she’d guessed, his features finely wrought. He thanked her with his pleasant smile as he accepted an iced cake from the stand. As she passed the teacups around, the aroma of freshly baked pound cake and scones sweetened the air. He and Lord Hislop eyed each other warily, while the other two gentlemen enthused over a pantomime at the Sans Pareil, which Jo had not seen.

She sipped her tea and searched for a way to enliven the gathering. But she’d learned how strictly ordered morning calls were. She couldn’t suggest a game of charades or cribbage. A distinctly strained air hovered in the room, despite Aunt Mary’s enthusiastic description of their visit to Astley’s Amphitheater.

Conversation ambled about. Lord Hislop complained about the wet spring following such a chilly winter. Mr. Ollerton spoke in warm terms of Viscountess Lisle’s’ triumphant ball, the superiority of the orchestra, the delicious supper. Mr. Payne enthused about how much fun it had been to be in disguise. Jo, weary after little sleep, fought not to yawn.

After the half-hour had passed, the two young gentlemen rose to their feet, obviously as eager to be gone as she was to see them go. Lord Hislop and Mr. Ollerton tarried. Lord Hislop stood and looked pointedly at Mr. Ollerton, who remained seated. Finally, Hislop bowed, scowled at Mr. Ollerton, and left the room after Jo declined his invitation to promenade in the park the following day. She had promised to accompany Aunt Mary to the British Museum to view the famous Elgin Marbles brought from Greece a year ago amidst great controversy.

Aunt Mary, anticipating Ollerton’s imminent departure, said goodbye to him and left the room to fetch her knitting.

Mr. Ollerton made no move to leave. In his blue coat, which suited his coloring, he crossed his legs and settled back on the sofa, as if readying himself for a nice long chat. “As soon as they fix the wheel on my curricle, I hope you’ll allow me to drive you to the park, Miss Dalrymple.”

“I look forward to it.” Unsure how to proceed, Jo gestured at the tea tray. “More tea, Mr. Ollerton?”

“Thank you. Just a drop. I must obey the proprieties,” he said, making no effort to do so.

She rang for hot water. “What part of England are you from, Mr. Ollerton?”

After Maude brought hot water, Jo busied herself making the tea. She added milk and handed him a cup and saucer, which he took with a slight inclination of his head.

He refused the cake plate with a shake of his head. “I am the second son of Viscount Cranswick of Lancashire, Miss Dalrymple. As my brother, Julian is the heir. I was expected to go into the army, or the church, or study law.” His charismatic smile pulled at his lips. “But none appealed to me.”

“What will you do?” Jo asked. In her opinion, everyone should work.

“I prefer a simple life. Fortunately, I have inherited some money from my mother. I plan to buy a country property and spend my days there.”

“It is wise to plan and work hard to achieve it.” She looked up from her teacup and saw him watching her with a speculative expression in his hazel eyes. Was he considering her for his wife? She hoped he wouldn’t mention it. She needed more time. Many ton marriages, made during the Season, seemed so hasty and cold-blooded.

“And you, Miss Dalrymple?” he asked, putting down the cup. “I hope no gentleman has yet turned your head?”

Jo disliked the question. As if her head could be turned so quickly by any man, she thought, firmly pushing the vision of Reade away. “I have only been in London a short while, Mr. Ollerton,” she gently chided.

He placed his cup and saucer on the table, then edged close to take hold of her hand. “I believe I have my answer and can breathe again. I hope we will meet soon. When they’ve mended my curricle, we can enjoy a ride to the park together.”

Jo glanced down at the slim hand, holding hers, wondering if she should withdraw it from his clasp. She didn’t wish to be rude, but it seemed rather presumptuous. “We have engagements for the rest of the week. Perhaps the Feldman’s rout on Saturday?”

“I haven’t received an invitation,” he said with a quick frown. “But, I have yet to read my post.” He shrugged. “I confess a reluctance to read it, Miss Dalrymple. So much arrives during the Season, invitations, circulars, charities wishing for support.” He laughed. “No doubt, my butler will place it under my nose when I return.”

Aunt Mary entered the room, her blue eyes behind her glasses exhibiting surprise at still finding him there.

Mr. Ollerton released Jo’s hand and stood. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He bowed. “Miss Dalrymple, Miss Hatton.”

Jo rang the bell.

“Mr. Spears is down in the cellar, Miss Jo,” Sally said, coming into the room. “May I be of service?”

“Mr. Ollerton is leaving. Bring his hat and cane, please, Sally.”

When Sally appeared again, Mr. Ollerton took his things from her with a smile. “Thank you, Sally. I gather from your fresh rosy complexion you hail from the country?

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