Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (45 page)

“Yes, miss.” She bobbed and hurried on her way.

“Not even going to see who they are from?” Clara put down her book and gave her an inquisitive look

“I know.”

“So do I but there is no reason not to go look at the message.”

Even as Jo spoke the words, her heart beat a few extras and she swallowed. Time had passed since the whole incident and her life had settled back down. Her parents were home, pleased she was fine, and happy to have Clara staying with them up until her wedding. She had barely seen Trystan and when she did, she ensured to keep the meeting short and succinct.

“Go read it. I have no desire to.” That statement was a lie. A complete lie. She wanted to know what he said to her.

“He says he will be stopping by tomorrow to take you around Hyde Park.”

“No asking first? Just a statement as if he can command me like the men he used to serve with?” Jo seethed.

“I would suppose he is trying to catch you. Every time he puts down a time, you are out. Even when we are in.” Clara made her point in a rational and calm manner.

“We have nothing to say to one another, Clara.”

“I merely gave a suggestion as to why he did not mention a time.”

She blew out a breath, contrite. It was not Clara’s fault and Jo knew she should not take her frustration out on her friend. This was on her. Since the exposure and ruination of several members of peerage, including the Earl of Stanton, she had done her best to be a paragon. No outbursts, no muttered comments when someone annoyed her—which happened quite often—and absolutely nothing to embarrass her family.

“Forgive me.”

Clara moved to her side and squeezed an arm. “Nothing to forgive, I know this is hard on you.”

The door opened and Jo looked up to see her parents walk in the room. She gave them a smile, truly grateful they were fine. Whomever Trystan had sent to follow and protect them had done wonderfully.

“Clara, my dear,” her father began. “Can you give us a moment with Jo?”

“Of course.” Another brief squeeze on her arm and Clara left with a curtsey.

When it was just the three of them her parents sat and gave her a look she had not seen for a long time. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for them to say whatever they needed to. Their expressions told her even that was unexpected. Before she had always been so impatient and would ask what they wanted.

“How are you feeling?” Her mother fixed her skirts before watching her with cool brown eyes.

“I am fine. Looking forward to seeing Najja’s baby when he or she arrives.”

Her father frowned. “You are not yourself, Jo.”

Jo blinked a few times. “In what sense?”

Her parents shared a look. “You are different and I know…we know a lot of that is from your harrowing experience.”

Leaning forward she took her father’s hand. “Papa, that was not your fault. Please do not blame yourself. I survived.”

“It is my job to worry. I was not here.”

“You were safe. Had you been home, you two would have been in danger as well. Or worse.”

“You are not the daughter we remember. There are no outbursts, even in the house. You are quiet, reserved, and not at all the child we brought home from Africa.”

She shrugged. “I am no longer a child and acting like that only embarrassed the family. Mama said so enough times. I finally figured it out.” She released her father’s hand. “Is that all, Papa? Clara and I are going shopping.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched her mother’s face pale. It may not have been nice to say but it was true. Even before they returned to England, all she heard was how she could not do this or that because
proper
ladies did not behave as such.

He stood and helped her to her feet. Hugging her, he whispered in her ear, “I know what your mother says, but I for one like the girl you used to be.”

She dearly loved her parents but she doted on her father. Returning his hug, she stepped back and gave them both smiles before leaving. Clara sat on the stairs waiting for her. Their cloaks beside her. Jo moved to her side.

“Well?”

They donned their cloaks and pulled on gloves. Tying on her hat, she gave Clara a look she knew she would understand. They would speak of this later when it was just the two of them.

The carriage arrived for them shortly and they were off to the West End. The ride was lighthearted talk, their maids with them. Once they made it to the shops however and the young women were a bit farther back Clara reiterated her question.

“What happened?”

“Apparently I am different now. I am no longer the daughter they brought with them from Africa.” Jo blew out a breath. “Unbelievable. My mother had never been happy with my actions before, constantly telling me how I was embarrassing the family. Now I am doing what she has wanted for so long and I am not myself.”

Holding up a bolt of ruby port chiffon, Clara stared at her. “This would look beautiful on you. Your mother loves you.”

There was wistfulness in Clara’s tone. Jo moved to touch the fabric, it was gorgeous. “I know, I merely wish she could be proud of me.”

“She is. Your mother is…your mother.”

And that summed it up right there. Anyone who knew her mother, knew that. The friends shopped more, and got some dresses ordered. To end their day out, they went to the park and walked around.

“Miss Adrys?”

She paused at the feminine voice, glancing about for the speaker. When she caught sight of who it was, she bit back a groan of frustration. Pasting a smile on her face, she dipped a curtsey, Clara following suit.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“Lovely to see you again. How are you?” Arabella asked.

Can I stab her? It would make me feel better.
Jo answered and made introductions.

“Have you seen Lord Wilkes lately?”

“No, Your Grace. Not for a while.”

“I saw him.” Her gaze sparked. “Last night and this morning.”

With a deep breath, Jo nodded. “How wonderful. If you will excuse us, Your Grace, we have some other things to attend.”

“Yes, I understand. I am going to shop, there is a party coming up, and I believe I need a new dress for the occasion.”

“Have a wonderful day, Your Grace.” Another curtsey and she and Clara walked off.

“That woman and Trystan?” Clara muttered as they returned to the waiting carriage.

“His mistress.”

Clara grabbed her hand. “How do you know that?”

“He introduced us.” Her eyes grew large and Jo laughed at her expression. “When we were…you know running. We actually stayed at her place.”

The humor left and the mood sobered. “I am so sorry, Jo. I cannot imagine what it was like for you.”

“Do not give it another thought. It is over and done. We need to focus on your wedding day.”

Clara’s face reddened. “And night.”

“Yes. I wish you all the happiness in the world with Royce.”

They stepped into the conveyance and again changed the topic to something not revolving around Trystan or even Royce. They spoke of the party they would be attending that night.

Trystan groaned and finished off his drink as he gazed out of the window at White’s. He really had no desire to be here but he had to do something. Stopping by Jo’s that morning had presented him with yet another “Miss Adrys is not in.” He was quite tired of hearing that phrase.

He had been unable to get any decent time with her since he woke. Sure, he saw her on occasion, normally in Clara’s company, but it was brief and never long enough.

It never would be until she was his wife. When she was his every night to hold and kiss. The woman he wanted to wake up next to each morning. Yet, she seemed extremely reluctant to have anything to do with him.

Shoving back from the table, he left the establishment and walked up the street. It was a while later when he found her. Out, as her butler had stated. For a moment, he just stood there by a lamppost and stared at her.

She wore a green gown and had her hair pinned up and held in place by her hat. His fingers itched to yank the hat off and allow all those silken strands of mixed hues to pour over his skin. Casting his gaze around her, he noticed the maids walking behind them.

He frowned. This was not her. Sure, the outside package was damn near perfect but to his eyes, something was still missing. He had hoped she would have regained her spark after it had all ended. But there was not one. What he saw before him was a woman who presented a perfect image for a member of the
ton
.

He growled low in his throat and headed toward her. Twirling his cane, he appeared before them and tipped his hat.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Both curtsied. “Good afternoon, Lord Wilkes.”

He stared into Jo’s eyes. Nothing. No heat, no desire. No emotion what so ever. He hated that.

“I do hope you got my flowers.”

“They were beautiful, thank you, my lord.”

Jo still had no inflection in her tone.

Hell he wanted to haul her close and kiss her. Devour her until she sagged against him, eyes darkened with pleasure and want, breathing fast and shallow. He swallowed and reminded himself they were on the street. Not behind closed doors. Did it change how he felt? Not at all.

“I came calling on you this morning.”

“As you can see, we had plans.”

“Did not even think to send me a note back?” He lowered his voice so it did not carry past her. Thankfully, Clara pretended not to listen.

“I did not see a question in the note you sent so I saw no reason to respond.”

“Come for a ride with me in the park. We need to talk.”

“Sorry, my lord.”

“Damn it, Jo!” he bit off. “Quit with the ‘my lord’ nonsense. Call me Trystan.”

She blinked and shook her head. “That would not be proper, my lord. If you will excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

“Her Grace has asked us to stop by. We need to be on our way to avoid being late.”

“Duchess Haversham?”

“Yes. Good day, Lord Wilkes.” Another curtsey and she walked by him as if he were any other man on the street. Clara beside her and the maids hastening to catch up.

Unsure if he believed what had just happened he whirled around. Sure enough, she was on her way. Away from him. Shaking his head, he hurried after her.

“Miss Adrys, might I have another word with you?”

She turned and gestured for the others to get in the approaching carriage. Her dip was there then she folded her hands before her and waited. Damn it all, he wanted to see the hellcat in her.

Standing closer than was proper he lowered his head a fraction. “Marry me.”

He expected more of a reaction than he received. “No.” Another bob and she too, climbed up and the carriage was on its way, leaving him there.

Was she kidding? How many times did he have to ask her? What did she want from him?

Something niggled at the back of his brain. Colin had told him before that Jo loved wholly and fiercely. Once it was gone though, it was gone. Shite! Had he ruined his chance with her after all the years of pushing her away and telling her she was just a child, unknowing in what she truly wanted? Had he lost her?

It appeared so.

Nausea hit him, hard and he leaned on his cane, taking deep breaths. This feeling of loss was new to him and he did not like it one bit. Whirling back around, he made the journey back to Whites and ordered some drinks.