Page 23 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

“Wait a while,” he cautioned.

“Was the regent hurt?”

“I don’t believe so.”

She craned her neck and tried to see what was happening farther down the road. The royal guard had left the chaotic scene. She turned back to Reade. “I will be all right. I doubt anyone is interested in me.”

“You think not?” His gaze casually took measure of her. “What’s in that silk reticule? Money? Those are fine clothes. And I’ll wager the locket is gold. Prime pickings for a pickpocket. You’re young enough to attract a procuress in the area. They could have had you away down that alley before anyone was the wiser, and don’t think they wouldn’t.”

Alarmed, she studied his hard face. “What is a procuress?”

“They are women who snare innocent country girls by offering them what they think are respectable jobs.”

“What sort of jobs?”

“Something too good to be true. Their goal is to make the girls a prisoner in brothels and sometimes send them overseas. They search for girls at playhouses, coffee shops, and other public places, and have the men who work for them nab them off the streets. They sell young women to their gentlemen clients. The girls are then trapped in brothels for the rest of their lives,” he continued, ignoring Jo’s horrified gasp. “It’s a lucrative business. Female pimps have few morals. They prefer to offer a variety of women, virgins especially, who can fetch anything from a guinea to a hundred guineas.”

As he spoke, his gaze remained on the crowd, which was just as well for his unemotional but terrifying revelation made her mouth drop open. “I…would never succumb to a woman like that, no matter what she offered me.”

“They might not seek your opinion,” he said bluntly, turning, at last, to observe her, his eyes flinty.

Jo shivered and held back from accusing him of exaggeration after a man paused to give her a studied look. Then there was the man in the alley. She could hardly argue the point when Reade would know far more of the evils of a big city than she.

Perhaps he took pity on her for his mouth softened. “I merely make you aware that this is London, Miss Dalrymple. Life here differs vastly from your country town.”

“I am aware of it. It seemed perfectly safe to come here. You can hardly accuse me of venturing into the Seven Dials.”

He acknowledged it with a nod. “But even in Westminster, there is danger.”

Jo thought of Sally and gasped. Had she fallen into the hands of one of those women? She gripped the lapel of his coat. “Lord Reade, please. Can we look for Sally?” She meant to plead with him, but it sounded more like a demand.

“Which way did she go?”

“I…I didn’t see.” They were now in Bridge Street, which led onto the Westminster Bridge. She pointed back toward James’s Park. “They pulled Sally in that direction.”

“People fear arrest and are leaving,” he said. “It appears safe enough now.” He took a firm hold of her hand, and they des

cended the steps. “I doubt your Sally will have gone far. She will look for you.”

His big hand wrapped around hers in a comforting grip. Jo walked beside him past Queen’s Garden into Stafford Street. There were small groups huddled on the side of the road, but Sally was not among them. Jo quickened her pace to keep up with his long stride. Didn’t it occur to him that her legs weren’t as long as his? She hated to think she was a nuisance, something he wished to deal with quickly. He must have somewhere to go. Something important to do. She drew in a deep breath to calm herself and admitted how fortunate she was that Reade had come to her aid. It was distressing to see bewildered folk sprawled on the ground, some weeping and in pain.

“Why are the people so angry with the regent?” Jo asked as her bonnet tipped forward over her forehead. Impossible to push it into position with his powerful grip on her hand and her reticule clutched in the other. He surged ahead like a boat she’d seen on the Thames, driven by a high wind.

“My bonnet!” Jo cried, reduced to pleading.

Reade released her hand. “Hold still.”

He bent his knees slightly and rearranged her hat. As if she couldn’t do it for herself. He was such a complex man. She subtly studied him at close quarters. When he wasn’t glowering, it was such an appealing face, with his straight nose and high cheekbones. What was she doing? He probably knew a great deal about a woman’s apparel. Would she never be able to think in his company? She should thank him, walk on, and leave him. Take control of the search herself. But before she could put some distance between them, he caught her hand up in his again.

“People have good reasons for dissatisfaction with the government and with royalty,” he said, replying to the question she’d forgotten she’d asked, without lessening his punishing stride. “I don’t intend to go into it here.”

Meaning he wouldn’t tell her.

Jo was in danger of a breathless collapse when a golden head appeared among a group a few yards ahead. “There she is! There’s my maid, Sally!”

“Right.” He shouldered his way through, pulling her with him.

He released her hand at last, and Jo rushed forward.

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