She scanned Reade’s note.
“Oh!” Her breath caught in her throat, and she fell onto the leather chair beside the desk. He had found Charlotte. She read it twice, fearing she’d misunderstood his words. But it was true. A tear splattered onto the page. Jo dipped the quill in the inkwell. She scratched him a hasty note, telling him she would be near the Brook Street gate at Hyde Park at three o’clock in the hope he could meet her.
Jo left the library and handed the note to the ginger-haired gentleman who’d introduced himself as Mr. Black. “Please ensure Lord Reade gets this as soon as possible.”
“I will, Miss Dalrymple, but it might be a while, he has an appointment with the Prince Regent.”
“Tell him I will wait as long as I can.” It concerned her what her father would say when he heard. When Black left, she returned to the library and read Reade’s note again.
They had restored Charlotte to her home in good health. There were no details. Jo would have to wait to satisfy her curiosity. She roamed the room, removing scarlet and gold bound books from the shelves and then returning them with nary a glance. Was Mrs. Millet involved in Sally’s abduction? Was it she who persuaded the abductor to let her maid go? It seemed preposterous, and yet she could not discount it. She had never liked the woman. Jo didn’t have a good reason, except she’d sensed Mrs. Millet was insincere. But her father was unlikely to believe anything she told him on such sketchy evidence.
The door knocker echoed through the hall.
Jo darted out just as the butler closed the door again. “Another note, Miss Dalrymple,” Spears said as if such a thing was insupportable.
“Thank you, Spears,” Jo unfolded it and read it. “My father will not be dining at home,” she explained. Her father and Mrs. Millet would dine after viewing an exhibition of Turner’s artworks. He had spent almost the entire day with the woman, and now the evening. Was she becoming dear to him? He’d be distressed if they discovered she was not who she appeared.
Spears nodded somberly. “I shall instruct Cook.”
“Thank you.” At least she didn’t have to tell her father she was walking to the park. He would forbid her. “Please send Sally to my bedchamber.”
Spears murmured an assent. Never deviating from his usual upright stance, he shifted his foot as if it pained him, drawing her attention. Jo admitted she had never really looked at the butler. His hair was turning white, his face deeply lined. He was a good deal older than she first thought.
“My father could be late tonight. Have a footman answer the door, Mr. Spears. I don’t expect anyone else to call today.”
She thought the suggestion that he needed rest might ruffle his feathers, but his usually indifferent gaze focused on hers with warm surprise. “I believe I will. Thank you, Miss Dalrymple.”
How wrong one could be about people, she thought as she climbed the stairs. But she was not wrong about Mrs. Millet. She was sure of it.
Jo had taken her lilac walking dress out of the wardrobe when Sally came in. “Only imagine, Sally, Charlotte has been found safe and well! I went to tell Aunt Mary, but she is still asleep.”
Sally clapped her hands to her cheeks. “That’s such wonderful news, Miss Jo.”
“I need to see Lord Reade. I’ve sent him a letter. We must return to the park.”
Sally took the dress from her and shook it out. “We aren’t to ride this time, Miss Jo?”
“No. I’ll leave a message for Aunt Mary.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s three-fifteen. The park doesn’t become busy until five. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long,” she said almost to herself as she shrugged out of her morning dress.
In the park, dark threatening clouds banked up in the sky, the wind stirring the branches. How foolish not to bring an umbrella. She had been so distracted; she hadn’t noticed the change in the weather. The chance of rain had kept the ton away, for the park was almost deserted.
They waited an hour as the sky darkened. Reade did not come. Had he received her note? Mr. Black would ensure he got it. And Reade would never let her down. She rubbed her arms. “I imagine the Regent has delayed him.”
They waited a further fifteen minutes. “I’ve just had a thought, Sally,” Jo said. “Lord Reade might have driven through the Hyde Park gate in his curricle.”
“Shall I walk over there?” Sally asked.
“No. You wait here. I’ll go.” Jo hurried toward Rotten Row. She searched the South Carriage Drive for a dark blue curricle driven by a pair of gray horses, and he wasn’t on horseback. The traffic thinned as rain clouds hovered overhead. The rest of the people deserted the park. Thinking Reade might have arrived and was with Sally, she turned to go back. Someone hailed her.
Jo spun around, expecting to see Reade.
A carriage stopped, and the door opened. Beckoned forward, Jo hurried over, but it was Mr. Ollerton seated inside. “I thought I saw you, Miss Dalrymple. Only fancy. What are you doing in the park on your own?”
“Good day to you, Mr. Ollerton. I am here with my maid. She is over by the Brook Street gate. I am looking for a…a friend.”
A drop of rain splattered on her bonnet.
“The weather has turned nasty. I have an umbrella here. Please allow me to give it to you.”
Jo approached him. “How kind, thank you.” She walked over to the door and held out her hand.
Ollerton’s gloved hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled Jo inside the carriage. She opened her mouth to scream but was roughly shoved to the floor.
Gripped by sheer terror, for a moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, and then she gasped, “Your name’s not Ollerton. You’re Virden, aren’t you?”
“Be quiet. I have a knife, and I won’t hesitate to use it.”
Icy dread flooded her veins as the carriage juddered forward. Jo’s stomach churned. Sally hadn’t seen her with Ollerton. Reade wouldn’t know what had happened to her. “Let me go. I’m no good to you.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
She swallowed on a sob. “What do you want?”
“You will know soon enough. Finding you alone is most fortuitous.”
“My maid will have seen you. She will run home and alert my father.”
She felt cold steel on the back of her neck and shuddered. “Do not toy with me,” he snarled. “Were you responsible for snatching your friend Charlotte Graham away from the brothel?”
The carriage was now traveling fast, rocking from side to side. “No, but I’m glad she is safe. You are a monster!”
“I saw you in the street outside my house. How did you know I lived there?”
Jo gasped and raised her head to stare at him. “Your house?”
He pushed her down. “Enough! You shall tell me all about it when we arrive.”
“Let me go. You can’t get away with this.”
“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t consider you, it’s true. You’re a bad risk. But my plans have changed.”
“What do you want from me?” Jo asked again. But she feared his answer.
“If you don’t be quiet, you’ll come to regret it.”
Jo shivered and buried her head in her arms as a hot tear seeped onto her cheek. Where was he taking her?
Reade spent several hours with the Prince Regent, placating him after a long diatribe ended with a demand to be told about the investigation. He assured the prince it was advancing steadily. He wasn’t required to go into details, but Prinny’s interest puzzled him. Usually, criminal activity that involved the lower-classes or the poor didn’t capture his attention unless it was a threat to royalty or the government.
Reade arrived home in the late afternoon to change for the evening. He found Black waiting for him. He handed Reade a note. “From Miss Dalrymple, sir.”
A brief missive that gave him no clue as to the reason she wished to see him. He snatched up his hat and rushed out to hail a hackney.
When he and Black reached the Brook Street gate, a woebegone f
igure stood in the rain. He asked the jarvey to wait and ran over to Sally. “Where is your mistress?”
Sally’s pelisse was wet, and her bonnet hung limply around her face. She trembled and struggled to speak.
Reade glanced around with a sense of foreboding. No sign of Joanna. He pulled off his greatcoat and hung it over the girl’s shoulders.
“Miss Jo went off to look for your carriage over an hour ago, my lord. When she didn’t come back, I searched for her. But she’s gone.”
He felt the hair lift off the back of his neck. “Gone? Are you sure?” He spun around. The rain had cleared the park of all but a few determined horse riders. “Why did she want to see me, Sally? Do you know?”
“We had the hackney go back the way I came home on that awful day,” Sally said, tripping over her words. “We found the house where the lady helped me. Miss Hatton said she thought it might be Mrs. Millet’s house because of the camellias and the shutters. Miss Jo thought you should know about it.”
Reade raised his eyebrows. “Who is Mrs. Millet?”
“Mr. Dalrymple hired Mrs. Millet to help Jo with her debut.”
Things slid into place. This Mrs. Millet was Mrs. Virden. Reade eased his tight shoulders. Had Virden learned of Charlotte’s rescue? Was Jo in danger? But he was letting his emotions rule his head. They tailed Virden. His man would contact him, and it better be soon.
As Reade’s hackney took Sally to Upper Brook Street, Black appeared in a curricle. He brought his horse close to intercept them.
Reade jumped down. “Who is following Virden?”
“Goodridge. Said his leg was better.”
“And?” Reade waited, fearing the worst.
“Virden outmaneuvered him. It appears he has conceived a means of escape.”
“Good lord!” Reade yelled. “Can I count on no one? Where did this happen?”
“Goodridge followed him to the park in his coach,” Black said. “Didn’t stay above a few minutes while Goodridge waited outside the park gates.”
“Was he alone? Did he meet anyone?”
“Goodridge didn’t see anyone with him.”
“Go on.” Reade motioned to him.
“Then he drove through Soho. Apparently, there’s a way through a cemetery. Goodridge turned a corner, and he had vanished. Virden either knows he’s followed or is taking no chances.”
“The graveyard could be the one near Mrs. Millet’s house,” Sally said.
“I think you might be right, Sally. Well done. But I must leave you here. Can I rely on you to tell Mr. Dalrymple? Do it gently, please. I will return Jo to them as soon as I can.”
“Mr. Dalrymple dines with Mrs. Millet this evening. But Miss Hatton is at home.”
“Then inform Miss Hatton, Sally, and say I shall have Jo home directly.”
Sally went up the steps, and Reade leaped into the curricle with Black.
“That devil has taken her,” he growled. “Take me to the stables. I’ll ride to Virden’s house, although I don’t expect to find him there.”
“Move on!” Black slapped the reins.
As Black drove, Reade tried to think where Virden might hide Jo. It wouldn’t be the brothel where he’d kept Charlotte. Did they use other such places? He dragged in a breath at the dispiriting thought. Their meeting was to take place tomorrow. Somewhere near the docks. He must find Virden. Reade did not intend for Jo to endure a night with him or in a brothel. He would find her if he had to employ the large number of ex-army men he knew to help him.
“Pull Rivenstock in for questioning at Bow Street,” he said through his teeth as Black pulled up outside the stables. “He might be a lord, but I’m not above getting rough if threats don’t work.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Up,” Virden ordered.
Jo raised herself to gaze out the window as the coach juddered down a drive. It pulled up outside the house Jo had discovered that morning. Mrs. Millet’s house! Was it only this morning? It seemed such a long time ago.
“Right! Out! We can’t stay long.” Virden dug his fingers into her arm and pulled her out the door onto the ground. Jo almost fell. She fought to stay on her feet as he hauled her along.
“Who is Mrs. Millet to you?” she asked when they reached the porch.
“She’s Mrs. Virden, and she’s my mother.”
“Mrs. Virden.” Her breath hitched, and she tried to pull away from him. “What do you want with me?”
“You are the holy grail, my dear. I was on the lookout for someone as things have become desperate. And there you were.” With a hand on her arm, he opened the door and hustled her into the hall. “Good thing we let all the servants go after you and that maid of yours popped up uninvited. Upstairs.”
In a bedchamber, he forced Jo onto a chair. She sat watching while he removed clothes from drawers and packed a portmanteau. Her terror had subsided a little, and her curiosity took over. She wanted the truth. All of it. “Why did you kidnap Charlotte?” She still didn’t know how Reade found her friend.
“You know about her then.” He tucked his brushes into the case. “When I returned your maid, I needed to replace her to appease our buyers. We were sending your friend Charlotte to Algiers.”
Jo shuddered. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“The slave market. A wealthy sheik wants to expand his harem. Fair-haired women are in demand there. I haven’t found another suitable girl since last year.”
Her blood ran cold. She shivered and searched for a means of escape.
He noticed the movement and turned to her, his eyes cold. “Don’t think you can fool me. Stay where you are, or I will tie you up.”
“Was that girl you took Anabel Riley?”
“It was some chit my mother enticed from the street.”
Jo hated him more deeply than she believed possible. He cared for no one but himself.
“So, your name isn’t Ollerton.”
“Ollerton was a gentleman I knew who died. Virden was my stepfather’s name. Millet is my mother’s maiden name.” His face pinched, and Jo saw Mrs. Millet in his features. She held her head in her hands. Oh, Papa!
“Our plan was for Mother to marry your father and then assist him into the grave, or I abduct you and hold you for ransom. But none of that will happen now. It’s got far too hot in London for me. I need money, a ticket out of here.”
“You are vile.”
“You do not understand how ruthless these people can be,” he said in a pitiful tone. “They will have me killed and throw my body into the Thames should I fail again.” He looked triumphant. “But I now have you.”
“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.
Introducing Miss Joanna Page 14