She knew that after breaking the betrothal, Beatrice had no other choice. It was either ruin or Lansdowne.
Jo felt sick.
She needed to see Richard. She needed to make sense of this.
* * *
Richard had spent the entire day pacing the length of the study and drinking coffee to the point that his hands shook.
It didn’t help him feel any better. It didn’t help him solve the problem that he’d caused. So once he was done with the useless prowling, he hopped into his carriage and drove to the Gilded Rose theater, where he now sat, still in the carriage, by the side of the road, waiting for Jo to finish her rehearsals.
His cravat was crumpled from tugging on it for too long, his hair was disheveled, and although he couldn’t see his reflection, he was certain his eyes must have been red.
He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to distract Jo, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Besides, he didn’t look presentable at this moment, and he didn’t want people to witness Jo with a nerve-wracked viscount who had been jilted for a lecherous old man.
Ah, yes. The reason for his turmoil.
Ever since he read the morning paper with Miss Fowley’s announcement of the betrothal to Lord Lansdowne, he’d felt sick to his stomach, restless, and, to be blunt with himself, quite guilty.
If he hadn’t promised to marry her, if he hadn’t subsequently asked her to break the betrothal, she would be happily tucked away in her home, gardening and looking out for her siblings.
He could have just helped Mr. Fowley with his business dealings instead of proposing marriage to his daughter.
Of course, he didn’t have any cause to believe he’d fall in love in the meantime… But then one thing bled into another and now there was a problem he could not fix.
But one thing was clear as day.
As of today, he was officially free. Free to pursue Jo.
Yes, the circumstances were not ideal. He needed to save Miss Fowley from the lecherous old man to whom she was now betrothed—and he had no earthly idea of how he would go about doing that. But first, he needed to see Jo.
So he sat inside his carriage, in a quite uncomfortable position, his limbs twisted, his head pressing up against the seat, his feet on the floor. If anyone saw him like this, they would definitely think he had lost his mind from being jilted or was nursing a broken heart. While in fact, he was nursing his guilty conscience.
There was a knock on the side of the carriage, and Richard sprung up and peeked out of the window.
Jo stood there, as beautiful as the moon, and as confused as a newborn fowl.
Richard pushed the door open and helped her inside before the footman had a chance to lower the step for her.
Jo peeked out the window before settling into the seat across from him. She looked him up and down before raising her brow. “You look terrible,” she said without preamble.
Richard smiled. “I missed you, too.”
Her eyes softened. “I am glad to see you here. Not the least of the reasons is because…” She leaned forward and whispered, “I think someone is following me.”
Richard frowned, his senses sharpening. It was a good thing he’d come to see her then. He rapped on the roof of his carriage and the vehicle jolted to a start. “Did you see who it was?”
“Where are we going?” Jo asked, worrying her lower lip.
“Home. My home. We can speak there more freely. Especially if you’re being followed, I think it is essential to leave this area. So… did you see who it was?”
She nodded and then shook her head.
“Which is it?” Richard narrowed his eyes, his heart racing. If someone was pursuing Jo, wouldn’t Garret tell him? Unless it started just today and the footman simply didn’t have the time to report.
“I did see a man… But I could not make out his features. He was tall and was wearing dark clothing. I noticed him at the theater first, and I thought he was one of the guards, but then he was following me out on the street… What?” she asked, noticing his grimace. “What is it?”
Richard felt a sense of shame. “Was he wearing a black cloak and a tall hat?”