Page 60 of Introducing Miss Joanna (Once a Wallflower 2)

Jo had been determined to hide her feelings from Reade, but when he walked into the parlor and their gazes locked, her resolve crumbled, and she struggled not to rush to him.

“How nice to see you, Lord Reade. My father wishes to speak to you after tea,” was all she could manage.

“Yes, of course.” Reade chose the last remaining seat, a straight-backed chair. He shifte

d about, looking uncomfortable.

Aunt Mary, with an adoring expression, fussed about him. She poured his tea and offered him the cake platter.

Reade, a napkin on his knee, sipped his tea while talking about cats with her aunt. His cat, Alistair, an excellent mouser, lived at his property in the north.

The three gentlemen eyed each other with raised eyebrows, and as soon as was polite to do so, took their leave.

Jo struggled not to giggle. Reade, so large he made the room look smaller, forked up pieces of cake while discussing the different breeds and personalities of felines. She sought his gaze, expecting to find laughter in his eyes, but they were dark and unfathomable.

Her aunt was expressing her heartfelt thanks and her joy at having her niece safe. While Reade demurred, her father came in and added his effusive thanks to her aunt’s.

While many questions were asked of him, Reade revealed few details about how matters now stood with the criminal gang, except to say Mrs. Millet had fled to Scotland. This silenced her father, and they said nothing more about Jo’s narrow escape, for which she was thankful. After a maid removed the tea tray, her father stood and cast a glance at Aunt Mary. “If you’ll excuse us, my lord, Miss Hatton and I must speak to the staff. A problem below stairs.”

Her father’s intention was so obvious, Jo flushed. When they left the room, Reade moved to sit beside her on the sofa. He took her hand in his, folding his long fingers around hers, making her pulse race. “Have you recovered from your ordeal, Jo?”

“Completely,” she said, smiling brightly. She wondered if he would go after Mrs. Millet. She couldn’t see him leaving the matter unresolved. “We have received so many invitations, I declare the Season will be dreadfully busy. Shall we see you at Lady Jersey’s soiree?”

He released her hand. “Unfortunately, no. I’m to accompany the Regent to Brighton tomorrow. I am on the way to see him now.”

She was unlikely to see him again, she thought with dreadful clarity. “Then, I mustn’t keep you. Brighton is a place I’m yet to visit. I’ve never seen the sea, only in paintings.” She was talking too fast and looked at her hands, unable to meet his searching gaze.

“Perhaps you should rest awhile. You’ve been through a lot, Jo. Things a young woman should never see. Virden’s death…”

“I’m made of sterner stuff than you might think,” she blurted. “And will always be eternally grateful to you, Reade. One day I will tell my children how bravely you saved their mother.”

He frowned. “Has an offer been made?” He smiled. “Not one of those three, I gather.”

She forced her lips into a smile. “No, Papa deals with anything of that nature. He has my best interests at heart.”

He stood abruptly. “Then I might wish you happy soon.”

She came to her feet and curled her fingers into her palms, not to reach out to him. To tell him this was all nonsense. That there would be no one for her but him. That she loved him. But would he want to hear it?

“I must go.” He shrugged and smiled. “The Regent awaits.”

“Of course.” She bobbed, ducking her head, afraid her face would give her away. “I hope your journey to Brighten is pleasant.”

“Thank you, Jo,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Please give my regards to Charlotte when next you see her.”

“She will want to thank you herself, Reade.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary. When I return from Brighton, I shan’t be in London long for matters await me in the north.”

With a small bow, he left her.

Jo ran to the window and watched him enter a carriage. Sobs tore at her throat. Her chest heaving, she ran upstairs, fearing her father or Aunt Mary might see her. She didn’t want to worry them. And especially her father, who had been hopeful Reade would ask for her hand.

Sally paused, tidying away clothes. “Oh, Miss Jo. What has upset you so?”

“He doesn’t love me, Sally. I was foolish to think he would cast himself at my feet and promise to give up his work for the crown.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know you care about him?”

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