Gail Whitiker Read Free Page B

repairs required—and she was not so naïve as to believe that she did not play a role in that solution.
    ‘Well, no matter what the state of your father’s affairs, I do not intend to let you sit like a wallflower in a garden of roses,’ Lady Cynthia said. ‘You are a fine-looking girl. With luck, we will be able to attract a gentleman of means and to secure an offer of marriage, which we both know is your father’s only hope of salvaging the estate given his own stubborn refusal to marry again. Speaking of which, I hope you have not forgotten that we are going out this evening?’
    Joanna had, but given her aunt’s decidedly prickly mood, decided it would be wiser not to let on. ‘No, of course not.’
    ‘Good, because while I do not particularly care for Mrs Blough-Upton, it is important that you be seen as often as possible now that you are out of mourning. You will be one and twenty on your next birthday and I do not intend to allow this obsession with Egypt to ruin your chances for making a good marriage.’
    Sensing there was nothing to be gained by continuing the conversation, Joanna bid her aunt a polite good morning and then went upstairs to her room. She was well aware that her aunt’s only concern was to find her niece a rich husband. And that she could not understand why anyone would be so passionate about a country that was dirty, poverty stricken and populated by the most inhospitable people imaginable.
    Joanna thought the opinion a trifle unfair given that her aunt had never set foot in the country, but neither could she entirely find fault with the assessment. Egypt was dirty and poverty stricken and populated by some very questionable types—but there was so much to see and discover that the one negated the other. Tremendous finds had been made in the last few decades. Travellers were flocking to the banks of the Nile to see the wonders being discovered there, while explorers following in the footsteps of James Bruce and Giovanni Belzoni were setting out to uncover the tombs of long-dead kings, hoping to find in those burial chambers a cache of precious metals and jewels. And, more importantly, clues to deciphering the mysteries of the past.
    Joanna sincerely hoped her father would find such a tomb one day and that she would be at his side when he did. Together, they would see sights no English man or woman ever had and perhaps be able to write another chapter in the history of the world.
    It was hard to believe anyone wouldn’t view such a marvellous trip as the opportunity of a lifetime.
    Mr Laurence Bretton certainly had. His candid statements and earnest manner had left Joanna in no doubt as to his desire to visit Egypt and, despite the impropriety of his conduct, she was not sorry he had come up to her in the shop. Though he reminded her of one of her father’s students with his wire-rimmed spectacles, rumpled jacket and studious air, he was clearly an educated man. Intelligent, well spoken and dedicated to uncovering the mysteries of a bygone age, he was a far cry from the dandies and fops who were more concerned with the cut of their coats than with the secrets of the past. She was looking forward to seeing him again for that reason alone.
    The fact he had the most astonishing blue eyes and one of the most attractive smiles she had ever seen really had nothing at all to do with it.
    * * *
    At half past nine that evening, Laurence stood in his dressing room as his valet ran a brush over the back and shoulders of his perfectly fitted black velvet coat. Though the cut of the habit à la française was at least a decade out of date, it was perfectly in keeping with the role he would be playing tonight. That of Valentine Lawe, the wildly successful playwright, whose most recent work, A Lady’s Choice , was once again playing to packed houses at the elegant Gryphon Theatre.
    ‘Laurence, are you almost ready to go?’ his sister enquired from the doorway. ‘If we do not leave soon we are going