Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,120

would have meaning and sense. But you take them for the money you make selling them.”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

She looked so pale and her eyes were so large and blue, he had a sense she was a winter sprite at his door, about to flit away. The fanciful notion made his heart ache.

“The money from the jewelry feeds and clothes and houses a small portion of London’s poor,” she continued.

“What?” Jasper straightened. She’d spoken so softly, as if the words were pulled from her, that he’d almost missed them.

“It’s true. A pair of eardrops can assure an entire orphanage has bread for a month. A bracelet buys warm coats or blankets for those suffering in a workhouse.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet. But she took a step back.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” she said. “But my father raised us to help those less well-off. My sister gives a portion of the Worthington estate, but I couldn’t let her do more, as it is not as flush as yours, not by any means, and I wouldn’t want her to get into difficulty by giving more. I never set out to steal, it simply fell at my feet one day, and seemed like the perfect answer. Take from those who have more than enough and give to those who have nothing.”

“You should have told me.” Jasper felt betrayed. She’d made a fool of him intentionally, letting him believe the worst, even though she’d never confirmed her thievery until that moment.

“Would that have made you think better of me?” She sighed. “Actually, what I do doesn’t truly make a difference anyway. There are dozens and dozens of workhouses and orphanages in London alone, and I only donate to a few of them. But I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

He felt gutted. “Don’t you think there are other ways to help?” Then he recalled her other habit. “The posies,” he said quietly.

“You know how futile that is. Mere pennies for the poor.” Her tone was bitter. “I am not a member of the nobility, nor among the wealthiest of our great nation, but those who are turn a blind eye to the suffering.”

He wouldn’t stand for her condemnation.

“Just because you and your sister have found entrance into the upper class, it doesn’t mean you know everything about us, nor should you sit in judgment.”

He paced toward her. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes. I work with others in Parliament to try to better our nation for everyone, to bring down the price of bread, for instance.”

“While you are debating, people are starving.”

“We also have charities, and I don’t know a member of my class who doesn’t give to one or the other during the course of a year.” Well, he reconsidered, maybe a few were more miserly than warranted by their affluence. “Others are the patrons of the poor,” he insisted, “sponsoring families or entire orphanages.”

“It seems to me, my lord, if you were all doing it — every member of the nobility — then we wouldn’t see people in rags in every town and village, but the idea that children are starving in London, the richest city on this earth, is an abomination.”

He had no argument for that since he agreed wholeheartedly. When he said nothing, she walked out, leaving his bedroom door open. He supposed that was better than slamming it.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“A certain Miss S__ appears to be the very likeness of a person of interest in the Bow Street magistrate’s latest pamphlet. So far, Lord M__ has not had the dubious honor of being included in that particular listing.”

-The London Post

Julia stormed back to her room. That’s what she got for trying to be pleasant! It had taken her ages to give in to the desire swirling between them, to throw her morals to the wind, to shred the rules of hospitality and go to Jasper for a satisfying swiving. She knew he would be thrilled.

So why did he have to make it complicated?

And then he’d mentioned being her husband. The minute the words were out of his sensual mouth, she saw the outright fear in his eyes.

A rake did not want to think about a wife.

He wanted to save her from the gallows, though. She put a hand to her throat and paced her room. It was a goal they shared, but it was hard not to believe his concern was based on wanting to control her, first by keeping her ruby ring and now by withholding