Читать книгу The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch - Louise Allen - Страница 40

That evening brought a report that Milo Thomas had been intercepted near Lincoln and three distressed young women rescued. Joanna wondered anxiously about the reception they would receive when they returned to their homes and whether they would have the reassurance and support she was enjoying from Giles and from the Geddings.

‘And what about the ones who are already in those dreadful places?’ she asked vehemently as they sat down to dinner. ‘What is going to happen to them?’

‘I will be laying evidence with the Bow Street magistrates,’ the Squire said reassuringly. ‘They will check all of the addresses in Thoroughgood’s notebooks and ensure that every young woman there is free to leave. If any have been kidnapped and, er…forced, then the justices will take the appropriate action.’

‘Yes, but what becomes of the women?’ Joanna persisted. ‘What on earth happens to them?’ There was an uncomfortable silence around the table. ‘When I get back to London I am going to do something about this.’

‘My dear,’ Mrs Gedding said gently, ‘there is nothing that an unmarried girl of good family can do about it.’

Joanna knew that was likely to be only too true. ‘Oh, I wish I were a rich widow!’ she declared vehemently. Giles sat back in his chair with a gasp of laughter and she caught his eye, defiantly. ‘Well, I do! Not that I would wish anyone dead, of course not, but it seems to me that the only women who have any freedom of action at all are rich widows.’

The Squire looked faintly scandalised and, although Mrs Gedding sent her an amused look of understanding, Joanna thought it best to take herself off to bed as soon as possible at the end of the meal.

When she woke the next morning, it was to the feeling that she had been ill, in a fever, and that now she was back to normal. The spectres of the Thoroughgoods and her terrifying experience had become less nightmarish, although her determination to do something about the plight of the girls forced into brothels was no less ardent. Perhaps Hebe, when she had recovered from the birth, would be able to help.

But with the sense of recovery came the anxiety about how her parents would react and the more pressing realisation that not only was she in the same house as Giles but that she had been having conversations of quite shocking frankness with him. As she dragged the brush ruthlessly through her hair, she thought it was only by some miracle that he had not guessed the identity of the man she loved, the man whose presence she was fleeing from.

She was so preoccupied with these thoughts that she walked straight into Giles in the hall outside the little parlour that did service as a breakfast room. Joanna knew she was blushing frantically, but could think of nothing to say, other than to stammer, ‘Good morning.’

Giles opened the door for her and ushered her through. The room was deserted. ‘Good morning, Joanna. May I pour you some coffee?’

Joanna sat down abruptly, making a business of shaking out her napkin so as not to meet his eyes. ‘I…yes, thank you.’

Giles put the cup in front of her and took a seat opposite. ‘Might I trouble you for the bread? Thank you. You are feeling more yourself this morning, I think.’

‘What?’ Joanna looked up, startled, and saw he was regarding her with an expression halfway between amusement and sympathy. ‘I am feeling better, yes, but how do you deduce that?’ Her heart was beating irregularly: did he really understand her so very well?

She waited, biting her lower lip, while he buttered his bread, a slight frown between his brows. ‘How do I know? Well, yesterday we were having extremely frank conversations without you turning a hair. In fact, you were quite unnaturally calm, which convinced me you were still suffering from shock. This morning you react as any gently bred young lady would at the realisation that the man she has just bumped into was the very one with whom she was discussing mistresses, houses of ill repute and the perils of the married state only the day before.’ He smiled as she bowed her head in confusion. ‘You blush very prettily.’

‘Oh!’ Joanna gasped indignantly. ‘You are just saying that to make me blush more! Really, Gi…Colonel Gregory…’

‘That is better,’ he said approvingly. ‘I would have hated to see you revert entirely to—what was it your mama called you? Oh, yes, the “perfect débutante”.’

‘I was never that,’ Joanna said sadly, ‘although I did try so hard. Colonel, was Mama very angry?’

Giles stood up to carve a slice of meat from the joint on the sideboard. ‘Cold beef? No? I do wish you would stop calling me Colonel. What is wrong with Giles? After all, I am a family friend, almost a friend of your childhood.’

‘It seems hardly proper.’

Giles’s expression was so comical that Joanna burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Giles, do stop looking at me like that! I realise that after everything that has occurred it must seem finicky of me to cavil at first names, but believe me, I truly am trying to behave myself as I should. But do tell me about Mama.’

Giles flipped open the lid of the mustard pot and looked round for the spoon. ‘She was not angry at all when I saw her, but you must remember she was very much shocked and upset and anxious to have you found. I cannot vouch for her mood when she knows you are safe. And, of course, she was most anxious to keep the news from your highly eligible suitor.’

‘Hmm,’ Joanna murmured, depressed. ‘I know exactly what you mean. When one is frightened for someone the fear is all there is. The moment they are safe you can be angry at how foolish they have been. I remember how I felt when William was stuck in the big oak in Green Park. Once the keepers had got him down safely I could have boxed his ears, yet only a minute before I was frantic with worry that he would fall out and break his neck.’

‘Well, I think it is unlikely that you will escape without a lecture,’ Giles said kindly, ‘but I am sure your parents will soon forgive and forget. And no one else in society but the Tasboroughs knows of this adventure, so you will be able to emerge next Season as though nothing had occurred. Although,’ he added frankly, ‘do you not think it would be a good idea not to strive to be quite such a pattern card of perfection? It must be very wearing for you, never allowing yourself to kick over the traces.’

‘Young ladies are not permitted to kick over the traces, as you put it,’ Joanna retorted. ‘Look at the fuss it causes.’

‘I meant indulging in the odd bit of mischief and high spirits, not running away and being kidnapped,’ Giles countered. ‘Suzanne is always up to something or another and it does her reputation no harm.’

‘I am sure if I were as beautiful, well connected and rich as Lady Suzanne,’ Joanna snapped, ‘I could get away with almost anything. We lesser mortals have to be more careful.’

‘But not to the point of becoming a by-word for your virtues! It is a testimony to your character that your reputation does not result in jealousy amongst the other débutantes and that you have so many friends.’

‘I am sure those who do not think so well of me will be most amused to see me take part in a third Season, still unspoken for,’ Joanna said bitterly. ‘I never intended to behave in any way to make other débutantes seem less…correct. I was only trying—’ She broke off. It was so easy to talk to Giles that she was in danger of saying far too much and betraying herself to him.

‘Trying?’ he prompted.

‘Trying to make sure I would be a perfect wife for…him.’ For you, only for you, her inner voice repeated.

‘Ah. The mystery man. Are you so sure he wants perfection?’ Giles appeared annoyed rather than curious.

‘He deserves it!’ she said hotly. ‘He needs a wife with perfect social skills: it is very important in his position.’ Only now, of course, Giles had voluntarily ended his glittering career. Now he had no need of a Society hostess who also understood the army, only a well-bred, suitable wife and in Lady Suzanne he most certainly had that, whatever his father thought.

‘Who on earth is he, this paragon who must have such an impeccable wife? A duke? A leading politician? A diplomatist?’

‘I am not going to tell you. It is hopeless now, anyway.’ Joanna took a mouthful of her cooling coffee and refused to look at Giles.

‘Then stop trying to be perfect. Relax and enjoy next Season for a change.’

‘To what end, pray? To put off being on the shelf for a few more months?’

She realised that they were glaring at each other across the table. It hurt so much that Giles seemed to care about what was troubling her; his indifference would have been easier to bear. And he must care to become so involved and angry about it.