Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,104

my mother is awake, I shall tell her your sister was invited away for the winter season, and you were unfortunately left alone in London for the Twelvetide and needed a place to go.”

“Without my maid or a trunk of clothing?” His mother would think them both fibbers. “She’ll wonder if I’m a lunatic.”

“Hm. Perhaps you’re right. Quite on a whim, you came to say goodbye and discovered you were being pursued by an angry man. Naturally, I offered to help. That’s the truth. Mother will think your pursuer to be some rascal from the middle-class, no doubt, an unwanted admirer you’re trying to be rid of.”

“Why not a nobleman?” Julia asked, scooting to the edge of the squab so she could better peer out into the darkness.

“Because you’re a common mopsey.”

Without thinking, she turned and punched him in the shoulder, making him chuckle. He’d succeeded, however, in alleviating some of her apprehension over arriving at his country estate. Regardless, she hoped his mother was soundly asleep and would save her questions for the morning.

A WEARY RIGLEY OPENED the coach door, unlatched the step and set it down, then offered a hand to Julia. Although Jasper couldn’t see her well in the dim light, she glanced back at him, looking a little uncertain.

Something in the vicinity of his heart clenched. There was that sentimentality striking him again — he wanted to keep her safe, even if it meant hiding her there in Gloucestershire for the rest of her life.

Nodding with encouragement, Jasper grabbed his satchel and his discarded overcoat, before heading out after her.

When they entered the front hall, their long-time butler who traveled with his mother’s household, was there to greet them with a bow.

“It’s good to see you, my lord,” Mr. Jeffers said.

The dowager countess must be asleep after all. Elsewise, she would have pounced on them like a cat upon a mouse.

“Sorry to keep you up so late,” he said to the butler. “You shouldn’t have waited for us. I know my way around.”

The man’s impassive face hardly registered the apology, nor did his gaze flick even once to the unexpected guest.

“Her ladyship instructed me to await you, sir. She was certain you wouldn’t stay at a coach house, if at all possible. As usual, madam was correct.”

“Then you must take the day off tomorrow, and anyone else who is up past their bedtime.” Jasper included a yawning maid, waiting patiently for her next order. He thought the butler might argue, but looking dead on his feet, the man nodded.

“Thank you, sir.” Then Mr. Jeffers, with his sharp gray eyes never leaving Jasper’s, asked, “Would you like your guest put in the gold and green room or the blue and silver room, sir?”

Jasper was amazed at the butler’s astute enquiry. Considering he’d never brought a female to Marshfield Manor before, he was impressed by Jeffers choice of rooms.

“The blue and silver has a nicer view,” he said, choosing the room closest to his. As lord of the manor, he ought to defend her virtue. However, he couldn’t imagine Julia staying under his roof for the remainder of the Twelvetide without their ending up in a sensual dance upon the counterpane. There was no point in her being in another wing entirely.

“I believe my good friend, Miss Sudbury, will be most comfortable in that one.”

“Very good, sir.” Now that he had an idea of her status, Mr. Jeffers turned to her. “Welcome to Marshfield Manor, Miss Sudbury. Jenny will take you to your room.”

“Thank you,” she said, but she hesitated, looking forlorn.

“Lord Marshfield’s footman will bring your luggage to your room directly,” Mr. Jeffers assured her.

“Oh,” she said, and gave Jasper a hard stare.

“She lost her luggage,” he explained to the butler, unsure why he was doing so. Mr. Jeffers would have had no concern. Indeed, he made no remark, nor changed his expression. It would now be the problem of the chambermaid, and by morning, the housekeeper, Mrs. Bowman.

“You may ask Jenny to bring you anything you need for tonight to be comfortable. Be it nightdress or tooth powders.” He couldn’t conceive of what else she would need and, if the temperature were warmer, would expect her to sleep bare. He coughed thinking of her in bed only yards away.

“And if you’re feeling peckish, I’m sure something can be scrounged from the kitchen pantry. Isn’t that right, Mr. Jeffers?”

“Indubitably, sir,” the butler agreed with little enthusiasm. Mr. Jeffers would awaken the cook at his peril and thus