‘Mr Rockleigh and I also talked about the beggars who stopped our coach,’ Joan offered up one truthful titbit.
‘It’s your duty to come with me to explain yourself.’ Dorothea snorted as a blush spread on Joan’s cheeks. ‘If you colour up, Lady Regan will know you’re guilty of something. And never mention those atrocious vagabonds, I implore you.’ Dorothea’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she fingered the mourning brooch on her shoulder. ‘I thank the Lord that this precious memento of my dear departed husband didn’t fall into the clutches of that avaricious wretch.’
‘It is not avarice, but cold and hunger that makes the poor act so.’
‘You defend them?’ Dorothea barked, eyes popping in shock.
‘No...theft is theft, but I understand how such an environment might corrode a person’s honesty and dignity. I know, too, that the rot could be stopped if the disadvantaged were able to share a few of the things that we take for granted.’ Joan cast a damning eye on her aunt. ‘Helping slum urchins to better themselves through learning to read and write is surely a step in the right direction; I find it inconceivable that any decent person would ignore the need for children to be given a basic education.’
Dorothea gulped indignantly at the pointed reminder of how she’d sat sulking in the vicar’s parlour rather than assist with the lessons that day. ‘Those vile people would have robbed and murdered us but for Mr Rockleigh’s intervention. They should be horsewhipped...every one of them,’ she warbled dramatically. ‘Say nothing about any of it to my friends; they will find it abhorrent to know we came close to such taint.’ Dorothea waggled a cautioning finger. ‘Of course, the dreadful tale of what occurred is bound to circulate eventually now you have told the vicar all about it.’ She sent her niece a blameful glare. ‘So you will come and have some tea with us?’
‘I’m afraid not; I shall go straight home.’
‘You are the most selfish miss!’ Dorothea hissed. ‘Your father will be livid to know you have been consorting with Rockleigh again.’
‘He won’t mind me having a conversation with my brother-in-law’s friend.’ Joan sounded more confident than she felt. ‘Besides, there is no need for Papa to be bothered with any of it.’
‘Had you been with the Rockleigh of old...then I would agree. But the fellow is now in the gutter and you would do well to remember that before accosting him.’
‘I did no such thing!’ Joan protested, although she recalled approaching him rapidly. She settled back into the squabs to stare sightlessly at passing scenery. ‘Would you have recognised Mr Rockleigh had the vicar not told you his identity?’
‘Oh, indeed I would have!’ Dorothea trilled. ‘I got a good look at him this time.’ She studied her niece’s reaction. ‘Such handsome features aren’t disguised by a heathenish tan, are they?’
Joan was saved from finding an answer; she’d suddenly realised that the coach was about to sail past the turning to her home. She rapped on the roof, determined to use her chance to escape.
‘Baldwin’s has in some fine new silk. You will want to choose from the bolts before all the best shades are sold out.’ Dorothea made a last attempt to keep her niece’s company.
Ignoring Dorothea’s angry huff, Joan said farewell, then alighted without waiting for the groom to open the door. Having hopped down, she immediately set off in the direction of Upper Brook Street.
Dorothea’s friends knew that Drew Rockleigh and Luke Wolfson were chums without Joan having to take tea with them and tell them so. The ton also knew that one man lived in luxury while the other... Her train of thought faltered as she realised she had no idea where Rockleigh resided. The idea that he took bed and board in a slum was outlandish considering who he was...or rather who he had been. He didn’t seem unfed...far from it; his strong solid physique spoke of nourishment as well as exercise. Vincent Walters had spoken of high-value purses being won by the victors such as the Squire, as he’d called Rockleigh.
Her aunt’s cronies would have quizzed her mercilessly so they could repeat details of Rockleigh’s disgrace in scandalised whispers. Joan wasn’t privy to his secrets, but if she were, she’d not betray him.
It puzzled Joan why she felt rather protective of a man who exasperated her, mocked her and also alarmed her. But Rockleigh had, not once, but twice now done her a great service. The need to act fairly and return a favour was quite understandable, as her father had recently pointed out. And what else could there be feeding her growing obsession with him?
Preoccupied, Joan entered her home. On looking up, she spotted her stepmother’s maid and some of the other servants hurrying towards the cloakroom laden with garments. Then her darting eyes pounced upon the woman herself. Maude had been tweaking her flattened coiffure into shape in front of a mirror spanning the length of a fancy console table. Packing cases and portmanteaux lined the walls and a convoy of footmen were converging on the vestibule to transport their mistress’s vast amount of luggage upstairs to her chamber.
‘Oh, it’s lovely to have you back and sooner than expected.’ Joan rushed to Maude to give her a hug that was warmly returned.
‘How is Fiona? Is she better now?’ Joan eagerly asked, breaking free of the older woman’s embrace.
‘Your sister is much brighter, my dear, so I decided to get myself from under their feet. The physician has assured Fiona that the queasiness will ease as the babe grows.’ Maude linked arms with her stepdaughter. ‘Come, I am parched and want some tea. Let us sit in the rose salon and have a chat. Then I must snooze for a while and look refreshed for your papa when he gets in.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘I have missed you both, you know. Tobias tells me that Alfred is at White’s and won’t return before we dine so there is plenty of time for us to catch up with all the news.’
‘And how is my lovely little niece?’ Joan asked, removing her bonnet. She ran five tidying fingers through a tumble of dark chestnut curls.
‘Oh, that tot is destined to be a tomboy. Diana likes sticks and stones to play with rather than a doll to dress.’ Maude sounded nostalgic while speaking of her granddaughter. ‘Fiona was the same as a youngster: she would crawl about the garden to catch worms and snails as pets while her little sister behaved prettily.’ The woman shuddered, glancing searchingly over a shoulder. ‘Tobias told me you’d gone for a drive with your aunt,’ she commented as they strolled over marble flags.
‘Dorothea has journeyed on to Pall Mall to browse the emporiums and meet Lady Regan in a teashop.’ Joan sighed. ‘I opted to come home. I cannot abide dawdling about those places just for the latest gossip.’
‘You and Fiona are alike, you know.’ Maude chuckled. ‘My eldest would never shop for new dresses either. It was always Verity who loved to have the seamstresses fluttering around her hem with needles and pins.’
‘I find the idea of being like Fiona very agreeable.’ Joan sounded wistful. Her stepsister was indeed fortunate to have a doting husband and an adorable daughter to cherish plus another little one on the way.
‘She has sent you a letter; it’s in my portmanteau. Fiona spoke about you constantly, asking me this and that and when will you visit. She was disappointed you did not accompany me.’
Joan would have very much liked to see her sister and brother-in-law, but when Maude had left for Essex over a month ago Joan had been suffering with a chill and too unwell to travel.
The refreshment arrived promptly after the two ladies had settled themselves in the rose salon.
‘So what scandals have I missed while away?’ Maude sipped from delicate bone china, her lively eyes displaying her eagerness to have some gossip.
‘Miss Richards has been jilted by her fiancé,’ Joan related after a cursory racking of her brains.
‘That