Free Sexual Hunger by Melissa Macneal Page A

grim reminder of her vulnerability—and of how she might be depending upon her journalistic income soon, if Jason’s family booted her out.
    Across from her, on the striped ottoman, Jude pored over the morning’s newspaper. He, too, refrained from showing emotion, although his reasons were different from hers. What did he think about Miss Crimson’s bold request?
    He glanced up at her, clearing his throat. The rings beneath his eyes told of a sleepless night, either because his mother and sister had kept him awake with their tirade or because he was becoming more worried about his twin. “We had hoped to arrive this morning to protect you from Miss Crimson’s news, Maria. Or at least to warn you of it, before you were quizzed about the column’s contents,” he remarked wryly. “But being a man, I must plead ignorance, I’m afraid. Why are you so offended, Mum? Miss Crimson has called upon all of London to help us find Jason! What a gracious, generous thing to—”
    “Gracious?” his mother cried.
    “Generous?” Jemma echoed as she popped up from the settee. She glared at her brother as though he were a pile of horse manure on the parlor carpet. “How dare that mean-spirited gossipmonger rave about poor Miss Palladino and not even comment about our gowns? They came from LeChaud Soeurs as well, you know!”
    “And indeed I paid far more for my attire—and for Jemma’s—than I did for that wedding dress!” Dora Darington joined her daughter. The two of them paced around the perimeter of the room like caged tigers at a circus.
    “Even Willie received more coverage than Mum and me! And in the worst way!”
    Jude rolled his eyes. “Call her mean-spirited if you must, but she merely reported the facts about your runaway ferret, Jem. Do you think I wanted to spend the rest of the evening trying to trap him, in that enormous sanctuary?”
    Maria shifted, trying not to laugh. That explained why the Daringtons hadn’t descended upon her last night, and the vapid attitudes of mother and daughter justified the way she’d given them short shrift in print, didn’t it? What lady would speak, in front of an abandoned bride, as though a simple wedding dress represented the supreme act of charity rather than a gift from a family that could well afford it? A family that was using this wedding to flaunt their affluence.
    “Actually, I applaud Miss Crimson for taking our part,” Jude stated. He glanced at the column again, as though inspired by it. “Rather than stirring up doubt and speculation about why Jason didn’t show up, she has enlisted thousands of readers to watch for him. Anyone with information will be far more likely to slip her a note than to approach the police. No one wants to be subjected to an inquisition.”
    “The police!” Dora jeered. “Your father has already reported Jason’s disappearance to Scotland Yard. They know nothing!”
    “Probably miffed because a mere columnist upstaged them, too.” Jude’s gaze at Maria apologized for the ordeal these two were causing. He appeared eager to spend time alone with her—as though that would happen anytime soon.
    “And what does this matter, really ?” Fresh tears dribbled down Jemma’s face as she wrung her handkerchief in her hands. “I wanted to meet the unattached men in attendance, a preview to my coming out. And now my hopes are dashed!”
    “You could’ve asked those unattached men to help me corner that ferret,” her brother muttered. “Not that your request would’ve endeared you to any of them.”
    “Jude! That’s quite enough!” Dora whacked his shoulder with her fan. “ Must you always bait your poor sister?”
    He bit back a grin. “I’m making up for Jason. In case Jemma misses him more than she can say.”
    “If you’ll pardon my intrusion,” came a voice from the door. “I’ve come with your tea.”
    Maria could’ve kissed Quentin McCallum at that moment. They were in dire need of fresh air, and the butler’s