Free Joan Wolf by Lord Richards Daughter

was perfectly expressionless as he looked at her across the table. “I will go to see your grandmother tomorrow. I will explain the situation to her and ask that she send some reputable woman here to chaperone you for our arrival at Crewe. I suggest we say that you have come from France, where you were taken by some respectable Frenchwoman in whose care you have been since your father’s death.”
    “I see.” Her eyes, staring back at him, were equally expressionless. “It sounds all right to me.”
    “Do you want me to tell your grandmother the story about the Frenchwoman or the truth?”
    June’s eyes left his and moved to the fire. She thought for a minute and then said, “The truth, I think. At least that part of the truth. If one is going to deceive someone, it is always wiser to stick as close to the truth as is possible.”
    He shook his head in mock disillusionment. “So young to be so corrupt. And you look as pure and honest as a saint from heaven.”
    “It’s a great help,” she answered smoothly. “But don’t tell my grandmother about my being sold as a slave, John. And don’t tell her about the lion. Say that my father died of fever.”
    “Oh, so I am the one who is to break the sad news to her?”
    “You’ll have to, won’t you?” She sounded suddenly very tired. “After all, you’ve got to account for my return.”
    He was watching her steadily, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Don’t worry about it.” The mockery had completely left his voice. “I’ll tell her. And I will spare her sensibilities about the slave market and the lion. And I will arrange for a chaperone so that you may return home with perfect respectability. I realize,” he said unexpectedly, “that none of this has been easy for you. But it’s almost over.”
    For some reason she could not fathom the beat of her heart began to accelerate. “I do not know if I have ever thanked you for all you have done for me,” she said hurriedly. “I owe you a great deal, and I am not ungrateful.”
    “I don’t want your gratitude,” he said roughly, and her heart beat even faster. She rose to her feet.
    “Well, then, I won’t bore you with my protestations any longer. But I meant what I said.”
    He did not rise with her. “That is nice to know.” His dark strongly carved face was settled in harsh angles. “Good night, Julianne,” he said.
    She did not want to leave him.
    “Good night,” she replied with calm dignity, and walked out the door.
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
    I shall the effect of this good lesson keep/ As watchman to my heart.
    —William Shakespeare
     
    He left for Crewe early next morning and Julianne filled up the day as best she could. John had sent the ship and its crew, headed by Said, on to Dover with orders to Said to join him in London in four days’ time. Consequently, Julianne was by herself at the inn as she waited for John to return with his “respectable” chaperone.
    He did not come back until very late in the day. It had grown dark outside when he tapped at her door and she was beginning to worry that something had gone wrong. She felt a great surge of relief at the sight of his tall broad-shouldered figure in the doorway.
    “I was afraid you had deserted me,” she said with an attempt at lightness, stepping aside and holding the door wide for him to enter. “Did you see my grandmother?”
    He came across the threshold, his eyes raking the room. “Yes, I saw her. She was going to send a Mrs. Brightling. Hasn’t she arrived yet?”
    Julianne smiled with pleasure. “My old nurse! No, she has not arrived yet.”
    “Blood hell,” said John rudely.
    Julianne thought she knew what was wrong with him. “You—did you tell my grandmother about Papa?”
    “Yes.”
    She spoke gently, ignoring his bad temper. “I’m sorry you had so unpleasant a task. It cannot have been an enjoyable day.”
    He shrugged a little as if it was of no importance. “Mrs. Brightling should be here shortly. I