Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,132

staring into the middle distance.

The rest of them fell absolutely silent until she looked up to find three pairs of eyes staring at her.

“Whatever is the matter?” his minx of a wife asked. “I was merely commenting.”

Jasper thought of the fun he would have searching her later, every inch of her, to make sure she hadn’t snaffled anything belonging to the Prince of Wales.

“And your financial difficulties are all sorted out?” This quip from Denbigh snagged his attention and nearly got his dander up, but he knew it for what it was, a test to determine his sense of humor. Julia had already disclosed the viscount offered to put Jasper’s “gingambobs in a twist” if he ever hurt her.

Absurd! He could certainly beat the man in a fair fight, and barring that, he could probably outwit him in an unfair one.

“The house of Marshfield is as secure and solid as that of the house of Denbigh,” Jasper retorted.

“Touché,” said the viscount.

“I adore the idea of turning this house into a home for waifs,” Lady Worthington said. “I bet the new Lady Marshfield will fill it with posies.” She winked at her sister.

Jasper watched Julia’s eyes light up at the mere mention. He knew she could hardly wait for her sister to get married and move out. They needed only to turn some of the public rooms into extra bedrooms and hire staff.

“It will be perfect,” Julia said.

Jasper wished he could reach his wife to give her a kiss at that moment, or at least to squeeze her hand. To do so, however, he would have to lean through the stewed beef-steaks and the salmon pie, as the serving style was à la française, with all the courses laid out in the middle of the table.

“Lord Marshfield believes members of the ton will donate to our cause,” Julia continued.

“Most assuredly, they will,” Jasper promised. “If they don’t do so willingly, we’ll shame them into it by publicly putting out a list of each month’s sponsors. If the gossip rags can wield power, so can we. Why, we’ll have them vying to be listed weekly as the most generous benefactor of the Sudbury Home for the Poor and Indigent.”

“Sudbury Home,” Julia repeated, glancing at her sister. “Isn’t that a lovely name?”

Even Denbigh, soon to be Jasper’s brother-in-law, seemed impressed by their plans.

“I believe Marshfield is correct,” the viscount said. “Nothing gets the upper class moving off their arses like the notion of taking credit or being praised for doing nothing.”

If anyone else had said it but a fellow peer, Jasper might have had to call him out. Instead, they could all chuckle. Denbigh seemed a decent enough fellow, as it turned out.

In fact, Jasper had a sneaking suspicion Julia needn’t have met with Prinny at all, as this man might already have had it all sorted out for the sake of his own fiancée’s happiness. Clearly, Denbigh would do anything for Julia’s sister.

“Wouldn’t it have been nice if we’d had a double wedding?” Lady Worthington mused.

“No,” both men said at once.

Jasper looked at the viscount, who stared back at him.

“Never mind,” Julia’s sister said, “I shall have to put up with a separate expensive wedding, since nothing done in London can be done by halves.”

Jasper looked at Julia, who’d fallen silent. After a moment, his new wife smiled.

“You could go to Gretna Green,” she suggested, looking between her sister and the viscount. “Only think of all the money you would save, enough for a hundred blankets, a thousand loaves of bread, perhaps a new poorhouse west of the city and—”

“She won’t stop now,” Jasper said, and he imagined if he hadn’t married her in Gloucestershire, he would have ended up saying his vows north of the Scottish border if that’s what his bride had wanted.

WHEN JASPER HELPED Julia down from the carriage in front of their home, she paused.

“It’s a miracle,” she said.

“That a rake like me won the heart of a lady like you? Agreed.”

She smacked his arm. “No silly. That I can see the stars tonight. I don’t feel a breeze, but there must be a high wind up there,” she pointed above their heads, “blowing the smoke away.”

He put his arm around her to keep her warm, and they looked up. The dull grey mantle that normally blanketed the city had been lifted.

“At least from Mayfair,” Jasper agreed. “I’ve decided we should keep the air clear over our heads and thus ordered it so. It cost me a king’s