Page 52 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

“Me?” Jo’s lungs squeezed as she struggled for breath.

Virden glared at her, a look of madness in his eyes while fingering the long thin stiletto in his hands. “A pretty redhead should delight a sheik. It won’t be so bad if you please your master, that is. Look on the bright side, you will have his other wives for company.” He frowned. “And if he insists on a blonde, I shall sell you in the slave market.”

Jo leaned back on the chair, her heart beating hard. “How did someone like you gain entry to ton balls? You belong in the rookery of St. Giles.”

His features contorted, making him ugly.

“You are lucky I must hand you over in perfect condition,” he said, his voice a low growl. “My mother and I have friends among the ton. They enjoy our charming company at their pathetic balls but wouldn’t shed a tear if we ended up in the poor house. And woe-betide me if I asked to marry one of their daughters.”

“So, another lie when you said Viscount Cranswick was your father. There is no Julian.”

Virden scowled heavily. “The viscount is my father,” he spat out. “And Julian is his son. But he never cared about me, his bastard second son. My mother was his mistress, and he treated both us like dirt. I planned to kill him before I left England, but there’ll be no time for that now. Agents of the crown are on to us, it seems.”

“And they’re very c

lose behind you.”

“They’ll be too late. We sail to Plymouth on the morning tide, and on to Algiers.”

Jo swallowed, her throat horribly dry. “You are leaving your mother behind to face them. They might kill her.”

A shadow passed over his features. “The east doesn’t appeal to her. She prefers to remain in England. She’s clever, my mother, she will find a means to escape the law. Mother has excellent family connections, you know.” He snapped the lock on the bag shut. “Enough talk. We’ll have plenty of time for that on the boat. Should you feel like talking.”

“I won’t be on that boat.” Jo fought not to let his words make her desperate. Would Reade know where to look for her? And if he did, would he come too late?

Virden stood and observed her. “You’re a spirited one. You will please them, although it’s a pity about your maid. I wanted her for myself, but Mother wisely insisted on sending her back.”

“Your mother would never stand a chance with my father,” Jo said. “He is merely amusing himself with her.”

“I’d shut my mouth if I were you.”

Tears pricked Jo’s eyes, and she lowered her head in case he saw them. She would never give him that satisfaction.

Virden pushed her into another bedchamber, which was obviously his mother’s. He pulled a sack from under the bed. “Gold.” He weighed it in his hands, then pulled the drawstring open to peer inside. “I will need this.”

While the bag of gold distracted him, Jo pulled her locket over her head. Her fingers closed on it as she held it in her palm. “You are stealing your mother’s money.”

He shrugged. “I’d leave her a bit, but she won’t be back here. She will get by. Has a talent for it, as I told you. Still a good-looking woman, my mother. Can mix with anyone.”

“She’ll get on well with those in Newgate then,” Jo said.

“Don’t provoke me. I warn you.” He tucked the gold inside the portmanteau and stood. “It’s time to go. We don’t want to miss the boat, do we?”

The coach they’d come in waited in the drive. Dressed in an oilskin, a bulky figure hunched over on the box as the rain pelted down. Jo let the locket slip from her fingers onto the porch. Reade had once commented on it. Perhaps he would remember it and know she’d been here. She clung to the hope he’d find her. For if she lost all hope, the fight would drain out of her. And she intended to fight Virden the first chance she got.

In the carriage, Virden made Jo lie on the squab beneath a rug. It smelled chokingly of dust and horse. Trying not to cough, she thought over what he had told her. Who was behind this gang of procurers? It was not Virden, he wasn’t smart or powerful. Nor would it be his mother. A woman wouldn’t have overseas connections. If Reade had been investigating them, he might have some knowledge of where Virden was taking her. But dusk was not far off, and at dawn the following morning, the tide would turn and sweep her away from England. It seemed impossible to believe. Too scared to cry, she put her fist to her mouth as her throat tightened on unshed tears.

When Black went to arrest Rivenstock, Reade saddled Ash. Within minutes, he was on the road to the Virdens’ house.

The cottage had a shuttered look. No servant answered the door. Reade broke a window and climbed inside, moving from room to room, gun cocked. In the upstairs bedchamber there was evidence of a hasty departure, but no sign of Jo. When he emerged again through the front door, something bright caught his eye, lying on the porch. He bent and picked it up. A gold heart-shaped locket. He released a slow breath. The last time he’d seen this dainty piece of jewelry was around Jo’s slender neck.

He threaded the fragile chain through his fingers. At first, he feared Virden had ripped it from her, but he was wrong. The clasp was fastened. Might she have dropped it on purpose? As a sign? It told him Verdin had brought her here, but not where he took her. With a curse, he tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.

No staff and no horses in the stables. Virden was on the run, and Jo was with him. Why? Did he intend to sell her as he had so many before? In that case, he didn’t intend to return here. They were shipping Charlotte overseas, was that Virden’s intention for Jo? Reade groaned. His men would have to watch the docks. He’d need a shipping list. Boats departing London within the next week.

Mounting Ash again, he rode to Bow Street. He had lost too many he cared about. Well, it would not end that way. Not this time. He would find Jo and restore her safely to her home. If he didn’t, his life wouldn’t be worth living.

In the mood to draw blood, even should it be aristocratic, Reade set Ash at a gallop and rode through the streets toward Covent Garden.

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