Chapter 5

5

At dawn the next morning,the house still sleeping, Joanna sat at her desk, the soft scratching of her quill breaking the silence. She was writing the next installment of her serialized novel for The London Gazetteer, a secret endeavor under the pseudonym Mr. Joaquim Digory. The income she received was substantial, equal to her brother Gideon’s earnings of one hundred pounds per annum.

She loved writing, and it brought her immense pride that she could support herself if she needed to. She’d never need to marry—and like her mama had said, no one would want to be her husband. She tried to shrug off a tinge of sadness at the thought. Charlotte and Gideon, God willing, would both be wed, and Joanna would live alone as an old maid, earning enough to support herself as a writer, but forever in obscurity.

That was fine, she told herself. She had accepted her place in life long ago. Her duty was to be in the background and serve others. Even the management of household affairs, typically the duty of the eldest sister, had gradually shifted to Joanna due to Charlotte’s lack of practicality. Besides that, Joanna’s literary earnings, unbeknownst to her siblings, ensured the servants were paid and the pantry well-stocked.

But writing was her release, creating exciting worlds and stories in which she could lose herself, living through her characters. As she dipped her pen into the ink, her thoughts wandered to her latest episode. Her protagonist, a dashing young gentleman, was in the mist-enshrouded woods, searching for his beloved, who was bound to a wealthy suitor. Joanna envisioned a twist—the snap of a twig signaling a menacing vampire holding the protagonist’s beloved captive. Her protagonist would chase the monster, free the young lady he loved, and the lovers would reunite. Knowing now what it was like to be kissed, Joanna very much anticipated writing that scene.

The door flew open, pulling Joanna out of her musings. Charlotte burst in. Suppressing annoyance at the sudden interruption, Joanna turned over her pages, no doubt smudging the still-wet ink.

Charlotte entered with an air of expectation, as if Joanna’s time and space were an extension of her own. Not once did her gaze falter to the papers scattered across Joanna’s desk or the pen poised in her hand. Joanna was simply a convenience to be utilized at her discretion.

Joanna’s fingers tightened around her pen, frustration surging in her body. But as she noted Charlotte’s tear-streaked face and swollen eyes, her heart softened. She set the pen down, pushing aside her own needs once again for the sake of her sister.

Her curl rags still in her hair and her corset clutched in her hands, Charlotte collapsed onto Joanna’s modest bed. The lack of a maid meant they often dressed each other.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” Charlotte demanded in a thick voice.

“I left a message with the butler, didn’t I?” said Joanna. “I got my courses and hired a hackney to return home.”

The part about her courses was a lie. The part about the hackney was true.

Joanna felt guilty about lying, but she couldn’t tell her sister she had been scandalized by a strange man…and enjoyed it.

His strong arms, his powerful shoulders, his delicious, decadent weight on her. His taste in her mouth, his scent in her nostrils, his body against hers, rubbing, gliding, pressing…

“I can’t see why you couldn’t find us,” said Charlotte, sniffling, eyeing Joanna with a frown. “It’s not like you, being so mysterious.”

Joanna’s cheeks burned. Her brother and sister had been the furthest thing from her mind after Hades had taken her in his arms and practically devoured her.

“Look at you, you’re all flushed!” Charlotte said. “Calm down, calm down. No need to feel that embarrassed about it.”

Joanna cleared her throat and tightened the edges of her dressing gown around herself. “Did anything happen?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, her eyes filling with tears again, “something did. Uncle came to me again and told me I had fifteen days to decide whether I will accept the prince regent’s offer or not. Fourteen days now.”

Joanna’s face slacked in shock. “Pardon me?”

Charlotte nodded and stood up, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. She handed Joanna the corset and took off her dressing gown, standing in her chemise. In a familiar gesture, Joanna lowered the corset to the floor, and her sister stepped into it.

As they both pulled the corset upwards until it was in the right place, Charlotte said, “Yes, two weeks, Jo. Two weeks until I’m either a ruined woman or one despised by the future king. Neither option is good!”

With a sinking heart, Joanna started to tighten the laces of the corset. Two weeks… She needed to act faster. “What about Mr. Linsby? Have you heard anything from him?”

“Not a word from George.” Charlotte sighed. “He may be lying dead in the Baltics as we speak!”

“Darling, don’t. This won’t help. He’s at war, he can’t exactly write at his leisure.”

“Indeed. He went to war with an understanding with a proper lady. He’ll come back to a royal whore!”

The laces tore from Joanna’s fingers as Charlotte leaned down to her dressing gown, which was lying on the bed, and searched in the pocket.

“And look at this,” she said as she straightened back up, a necklace dangling between her fingers. “To show the seriousness of his affections, the prince regent gave me this.”

The gold necklace had a gorgeous diamond sparkling from the middle.

Joanna gasped as she looked closer. “It must have cost a fortune! This isn’t appropriate.”

“He’s trying to buy me,” said Charlotte and gave out a desperate whimper.

Joanna’s heart was breaking for her sister. She turned Charlotte around and hugged her. Charlotte wept into Joanna’s shoulder, shaking. And Joanna wondered if she truly had any hope of saving her sister from this fate. Even though she had learned the address of the place in Whitechapel, she didn’t have any real information. And she now knew she had competition.

Hades. The most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

She remembered his stern presence, his beautiful, large-muscled bare legs, his mighty chest that didn’t look like that of a gentleman but of a god.

And the things they’d said to each other, every word like a sunbeam shot straight into her soul. He wanted to take down Ashton, too…only, she didn’t know if that was a good thing.

She was sure whatever the man’s purpose, it wasn’t to help her sister. He may even keep her from learning what she needed to for his own reasons. She couldn’t trust a stranger with her sister’s and her brother’s fates.

“It’s all right, Charlotte,” she said. “I discovered something intriguing yesterday. But I need to act quickly. Which I will. Tonight.”

Charlotte straightened and looked at her. “You can’t tonight. Uncle invited us to the opera.”

“Opera?”

“Yes. Apparently, the prince regent invited me. Aunt and Uncle will chaperone. But I can’t go alone. Please, come with me, darling!”

“Of course I’ll come,” Joanna said. “But I may squeeze in time to do something before the opera.”

Perhaps she could make it to Whitechapel and find out what was happening at 12 Petticoat Street. If she was lucky, she would discover proof of whatever he was up to. But even knowing what her uncle was involved in would allow her to confront him right at the opera. Then this nightmare would be over, and Charlotte would be safe.

“What about the dresses?” Charlotte asked.

“But you have something, don’t you?” asked Joanna.

“I don’t want to impress the prince,” said Charlotte. “You have your blue dress, but my only dress fit for the opera is torn, Joanna. You know I can’t sew like you do. Only your fingers are so swift, the seam will not even be noticed.”

“But Charlotte—”

“You can do it so well, sister. Please.”

It was a large tear, too, Joanna remembered. Someone had stepped on it last time Charlotte wore it to a soirée one year ago, and it tore almost to her hip, right in the front. It would be hard to sew well. Hours of tedious work and concentration. There was no chance she could repair it and go to Whitechapel.

“Of course,” she said, sighing. “Although do consider wearing a burlap sack and maybe your problems will disappear on their own.”

“Thank you, darling! I promise I’ll wear that dress when George finally proposes!”

Joanna smiled and nodded. “All right, come here. Let me finish your corset, and then you can do mine.”

Her trip to Whitechapel had to wait.