can we be strangers?’ he said a wicked twinkle in his eye. ‘I already know that you have a delightful sister called Lucy, and I am sure we could soon know each other better, if you would permit me to buy you some…hot chocolate, perhaps?’ His eyes were filled with devilment, a challenge that she found confusing.
‘Sir! I think you must have mistaken me for…’ Jo was torn between outrage and astonishment. ‘I am a perfectly respectable person! What happened that morning at the inn was not of my making, I do assure you.’
Hal looked thoughtful. He had not immediately recognised her, for she had acquired a little town bronze over the past few days, and his mind had been occupied elsewhere. He had merely been flirting gently with a pretty girl. Seeing the outrage in her face, he was suddenly overcome by a wicked desire to tease her, to see how far she would go.
‘Oh, yes, I am very sure of it,’ he said and she saw that he was laughing inside. ‘Perfectly respectable, if a little reckless. But Carstairs is a brute and a fool. If I spoke harshly to you then, I am sorry. My anger was for him, not you. You are a lady of quality and deserve respect. You are also irresistible when your eyes take fire. I feel that I have always known you, though not your name—for you have not given it to me. Mine is Hal Beverley, should you wish to know it.’
Jo gave him a straight look. ‘Are you inebriated, sir?’
His laughter shocked her, because it was so honest and appealing. ‘It is a question that is often asked. My father says that I am an irreverent rascal, but I assure you that my offer was made in good faith. You have a sister who would love a pretty trinket and I have money in my pocket—but forgive me if I have offended your sense of propriety.’
‘No, you have not,’ Jo said and surprised herself. ‘Do you know, that is exactly what Papa might have done had he been able to afford it. He often gave his sixpences to the village children.’
‘Perhaps another day we shall talk again,’ he said and tipped his hat to her. ‘Excuse me now, I must go, for I am already late for an appointment. Take care and watch where you tread. I should be most distressed if harm were to come to you.’
‘Yes, I shall…’Jo watched as he walked away. His hair was very dark brown and he had such bold eyes—just like the wicked earl in the story she was writing. She smiled—she had written of just such a meeting in her story only that morning.
Jo shook her head. She must not let her imagination run wild—that was for her stories, not for everyday life. She walked on, tired of window-shopping. She must hurry, for she was not perfectly sure what time the library closed. Jo paused to cross the road, waiting for a dray wagon drawn by four magnificent chestnut horses to pass by. A woman had just come out of the library; as Jo watched, she gave a little sigh and collapsed on to the pavement.
Jo hurried across the road now that it was clear and knelt down beside her, feeling for a pulse, which was still beating strongly. Even as she wondered what she ought to do, the woman moaned again and opened her eyes.
‘Oh, I must have fainted,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, but could you help me to get up?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said offering her hand. The woman took it and pulled on her as she struggled to stand up. As she did so, her shawl fell from her shoulders and Jo saw that she was quite obviously carrying a child. She retrieved the shawl and placed it about the woman’s shoulders. ‘Are you still feeling a little unwell?’
‘Just a little,’ the woman replied in a faint voice. ‘If I could sit down for a few minutes…’
‘Let us go into the teashop.’ Jo said and offered her arm. ‘Lean on me and we shall drink a dish of tea together—and perhaps a cake, if you feel able?’
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ the woman said. ‘I was in a hurry to come out this morning and did not eat anything. I believe that may be the reason for my faintness.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jo said. ‘You really ought to eat properly in your condition, ma’am.’ She had noticed the wedding ring on the woman’s left hand. ‘Would you like me to fetch someone for you—your husband, perhaps?’
For a moment her eyes were dark with pain. ‘My husband is dead and there is no one else. I am forced to fend for myself, and that is why I was in such a hurry this morning. I am working as a seamstress from home, and I had promised to deliver some embroidery I had finished to one of the shops here. I ought to have gone straight home afterwards, but I wanted to look for a book in the library. Let me introduce myself—my name is Ellen Beverley.’
‘I am very sorry to hear about your husband,’ Jo said. She had found a table for them by the window and they sat down. ‘It must be awful for you, especially in your condition.’
Ellen placed a hand on her swollen belly and smiled. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Matt’s child is a joy to me. Had it not been for the baby, I think I might have given way to despair when he died, but I had to live for my child’s sake—because my husband would have expected it of me. He was a brave, kind man, and I shall love his child as I loved him.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said. She had wondered for a brief moment if she might be related to the man she had met briefly outside the jeweller’s that morning. His name was also Beverley, but it was clearly not so—Ellen had said she was alone. Her name was simply a coincidence. ‘But is there no one who could help you?’
‘I ran away to marry the man I loved,’ Ellen told her with a wistful look. ‘My parents disapproved and so did his—but we loved each other and there was never any question of giving each other up. We had almost a year of complete happiness, but now…’ She sighed and shook her head.
Jo thought she looked very young and vulnerable, though exceptionally pretty with softly waving fair hair and green eyes.
‘Perhaps we could be friends, at least while I am in Bath,’ she offered impulsively. ‘I know it will only be for a short time, but we may write to each other when I go home—and if you are ever in trouble I would try to help you.’
‘Oh, how kind you are,’ Ellen said. ‘I do not believe you have told me your name.’
‘How silly of me,’ Jo said and laughed. ‘I was too concerned for you to think of it. I am Jo Horne and staying here in Bath with my aunt, Lady Wainwright. I used to live in Huntingdonshire, but when I leave here I shall be living with Great-aunt Bertha in Cornwall.
‘My whole family has gone to live with her, because Papa died and we had to leave the Vicarage. We were offered a home at the Lodge, but Mama did not like it there and poor Lucy was ill, and so we shall all live with my great-aunt from now on, but I was promised to Lady Wainwright for this visit.’ Jo pulled a face. ‘And now you know all there is to know about me, and very dull it is, too, compared with your life—’ She broke off as the waitress approached and ordered tea and cakes for them both. She held up her hand as Ellen reached for her purse. ‘No, you shall not pay a penny, Ellen—I may call you that, I hope?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Ellen said, her smile lighting up her face. ‘I am so very pleased that we have met, Jo. I was feeling very alone—I do not go out much, except to deliver my work or look in shop windows. I have no friends, for my old companions were left behind, though of course we had many friends in Spain.’
‘Was your husband a soldier?’
‘Yes,’ Ellen replied her eyes soft with memories. ‘Captain Matthew
