The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 33
The meaning of those words sank into Imogen, and a rainbow of different reactions immediately formed. Part of her was warmed by the fact he had trusted her, even with the tiniest of facts, about something he usually didn’t share. But part of her was…jealous. She could admit that to herself, even if she wouldn’t to anyone else.
Knowing that he cared so much for that other woman that he couldn’t bear to speak about her made Imogen jealous.
“He told me he was her protector,” Imogen said softly. “And that she wanted…more. She wanted him to love her and when he couldn’t, she left. He feels guilty for what happened after, as if changing his heart would have made things different.”
“He said that?” Joanna breathed.
Imogen shook her head with a blush. “No. I can just see it.”
Joanna held her stare for what felt like a lifetime. Then she nodded slowly. “He holds Louisa up on a pedestal, I suppose because she disappeared…she died…in such a terrible fashion. But she wasn’t perfect. And if he feels guilt, that is a shame, because he was never dishonest with her.”
“Nor has he been with me,” Imogen said. “He’s been very direct and upfront with me about what he can and cannot provide.”
“And is that enough for you?” Joanna asked. “Especially considering where you come from. What expectations you must have had for your life before.”
Imogen wrinkled her brow. “How much did Oscar tell you about me?”
“Very little,” Joanna assured her. “He is close-lipped with even his dear Mama. But if you plan on becoming a courtesan in the future, you will soon learn that divining the truth of those around you is part of the vocation. Would you like to hear my observations, and you can tell me if they’re true?”
Imogen wasn’t certain she did want that, but she found herself nodding nonetheless.
“You mentioned a husband. I would say dead a little more than a year. You no longer wear his ring, not on any finger and not on a necklace, at least that I can see. So there was perhaps no love lost, or at least there was disappointment in him.”
Imogen’s eyes went wide. “Yes,” she choked out.
“You mentioned his family, their ability to control how you set out in the world to find a protector. And you said you were innocent. That makes me think you came from a family of wealth, privilege. But you are a missus rather than a Lady in your address. So a second or third son. Married off to the same.”
“Yes,” Imogen said, lifting a hand to her lips.
“You are afraid of changing your life by entering into the trade, likely because your family taught you that to fall is the worst thing that can happen to a woman,” Joanna continued. “But I think you are a bit titillated by it too. The idea of pleasure, of freedom to pursue and receive it, is appealing to you.”
Now Imogen pushed to her feet, cheeks flaming with heat. “I-I—”
“Too far,” Joanna said softly. “My apologies.”
“I’m simply not…not accustomed to such frank discussion,” Imogen gasped out, pacing to the fireplace and wishing she could make her hands stop shaking. “I suppose I must become so if I truly wish to enter the world you have described.”
“Eventually,” Joanna said, her voice gentle. She got up and tilted her head, watching Imogen so closely that it felt like she was caged in by the stare. That was certainly where Oscar had learned the technique. “And what about my son?”
Imogen could hardly breathe. “What—what about him? He saved me and he continues to do so. I don’t know why.”
“Don’t you?” Joanna said with a chuckle as her gaze flitted pointedly over Imogen’s face. “But no. I think it’s more than just your pretty face. There are a dozen pretty faces who could keep him company and have kept him company over the years. They never made him…” She trailed off and didn’t finish that sentence Imogen suddenly wanted to hear. “I like you, Imogen. I read people, as you can see, because it keeps me safe. And I like you. But I can see you have a bit of a broken wing and that has been the kind of thing my son has always gravitated to.”
Imogen straightened. “You fear I’m taking advantage?”
“Not exactly. I just hope that you will be able to see that he, too, isn’t whole. He hides it very well. Perhaps together you could fill the hurt in each other. Help each other mend.” Joanna held her gaze for a long moment, and Imogen realized she wasn’t breathing. But at last Joanna blinked. “Don’t mind me.”
She stepped away, and Imogen sucked a breath into her suddenly burning lungs. Joanna paced back to the sideboard and touched Oscar’s abandoned glass before she turned back and gave Imogen another of those dazzling smiles. All her worry was gone in that moment, wiped away and replaced by what felt like genuine kindness and brightness.
Another trick this woman had likely learned through the years of work. Please the companion. Make them comfortable in whatever way fit them best. Adjust to their needs so easily that they never saw the transition.
It was a skill that required a great deal of work, Imogen would wager. And she respected her companion for developing it.
“I am happy to help you,” Joanna said. “Now, if you don’t mind sending Fitzhugh in on your way out, I’ll say my goodbyes to him and see you later after I’ve had a chance to make my own inquiries.”
Imogen blinked. She was being dismissed, gently but firmly. Like a queen might do, actually. She barely kept herself from curtseying as she said, “I will. It was a pleasure meeting you, Joanna.”
“And you. I mean it.” Joanna’s smile was real as Imogen nodded