Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,107
her setting and leaned forward.
“Eggs? Of course,” he answered, not waiting for a response. “Sausages and bacon, creamed potatoes, some of Cook’s best rolls and jam or she’ll have my hide.”
His mother agreed with a quick, “She would.”
And then Julia found a mountain of food placed in front of her before Jasper murmured “Merry Christmas” in her ear and regained his seat.
The dowager countess stared at her boldly for a moment. But her question was nothing more than a benign, “Tea or coffee? I assume you’ve already had chocolate.”
“Yes, my lady, I have. It was perfectly prepared and not the least bit grainy.” Julia ordered herself to stop her babbling. “I would like tea, please.”
Wondering with terror if the dowager countess herself was going to pour, suddenly, a footman whom Julia hadn’t noticed pressed against the wall like a statue leaped forward, lifted the correct pot from the table and poured her a cup.
“It should still be hot,” Lady Marshfield said. “If not, we’ll get a fresh one.”
“It’s fine,” Julia said.
“How would you know, dear? You haven’t tried it yet,” her ladyship said, eyeing her with a sharp, piercing glance.
“I ... I...,” Julia hadn’t meant to be impertinent.
“Mother,” Jasper said, “stop browbeating Miss Sudbury.” He looked at Julia. “Sugar.” He pointed to a porcelain bowl. “And milk.” He pointed again. “For goodness’ sake, taste it quickly. Mother is proud of the quality of our tea.”
In response, the dowager countess lifted her hand from her lap, jangling keys.
“The tea caddy has a lock,” she said, “as does the cupboard I store it in.”
Julia nodded, added sugar and milk, and tasted it.
“You are correct,” she said to Lady Marshfield. “Due to my tardiness, it has grown tepid, but it’s so delicious, I would not waste it for a new pot.”
“Good girl,” her ladyship said. “You don’t have to agree with me or tell me what I want to hear in order to gain my high regard. Honesty will do you in good standing with me, Miss Sudbury.”
Jasper laughed. “There’s honesty and then there’s honesty.”
The dowager countess frowned at her son. “Whatever can you mean?”
Julia hoped he wasn’t going to mention anything shady to do with her and held her breath.
“Recall the guest who gave you her opinion on your gown at the infamous Ledley ball or the more recent unfortunate gentleman who didn’t like your choice of pottage at—”
“Bad taste is not honesty, Jasper!”
Julia released her pent-up breath, remaining quiet as the two sparred good-naturedly, but she took the hint all the same. Do not placate her ladyship with false praise, whether it be tepid tea or, as Julia had just discovered, stone-cold toast. Instead, she should keep her opinion to herself over matters of style unless asked. And eat her pottage without comment at dinner that night regardless of what flavor it was.
“My son tells me your sister is with Lady Macroun at Forde Hall. Such a pity the Lady Worthington couldn’t have accompanied you. The more the merrier.”
Julia darted a glance toward the earl. What about the absurdity of her having no chaperone or trunk?
“My sister’s invitation to Great Oakley came long before Lord Marshfield issued one to me. Sa — Lady Worthington couldn’t possibly change her plans without insulting Lady Macroun.”
“True, I suppose.” Lady Marshfield nodded and sighed. Then she seemed to perk up at a new topic. “What is this about your being pursued by a soulless blackguard?”
Gasping with surprise, Julia choked on the bit of sausage she was swallowing and made a face, causing Jasper to rise to his feet again. Before she could lift her napkin to her lips, she coughed hard, and the offending meat shot onto the lily-white tablecloth.
“Gracious!” exclaimed the dowager countess.
“Are you all right?” Jasper asked while Julia stared mortified at the brown gristle.
“Yes, thank you.” To her horror, the footman, who apparently was watching everything like a falcon, rushed forward and covered the sausage with a napkin before whisking it away.
“My apologies,” Julia began as Jasper took his seat again. She wanted to rebuke him for whatever tale he’d told his mother. “I was simply not expecting the earl to have told you anything about my circumstances. In truth, I was pursued by a very determined man, although I doubt he was either soulless or a blackguard.”
The lady pursed her lips. “Do you have feelings for this violent man?”
“Mother!” Jasper warned.
“No, my lady,” Julia assured her, thinking of the Bow Street Runners with their angry faces. “No feeling except for aversion