Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,2

to him was his choice of chaperone, his dear mummy, Lady Pomony. Obviously, the viscountess was there solely for the benefit of protecting her precious heir, should Julia be the fortune hunter the Earl of Marshfield had supposed her to be.

Regardless, her unappealing escort mattered not a whit. Mr. Furley, with an invitation in hand, had been purely a means to an end — the end being easy entrance to the earl’s house and bedroom. She might have been rudely interrupted, but she hadn’t come away empty-handed.

Giving her wrist a little shake, Julia’s delicate silk beaded bag of the palest dove gray swung to and fro. Inside was the earl’s stunning gold and sapphire cravat pin.

Accepting a glass of wine offered by a passing servant, Julia took her place beside Mr. Furley and his mother, ready to partake of an evening filled with good food and a musical concert before she would be dropped home with her new dazzler.

JASPER GEORGE ASHTON, the Earl of Marshfield, couldn’t keep his eyes off the young blonde woman with the bewitching blue eyes. He’d been ready to give her the handkerchief she sought, as well as a quick tupping if she’d been willing. However, Miss Sudbury had vacated his room so swiftly he’d almost imagined she’d never been there. Except he could still make out the delicate floral fragrance he’d inhaled when kissing her, which lingered like a whisper in his chamber.

When he’d descended to his drawing room a few minutes later, he’d discovered with a modicum of surprise she was partnered with the impossibly bland Furley, a good chap if a bit of a mutton-head. Indeed, the viscount’s son was only on the earl’s guest list because their mothers were friends and his own had requested the kindness.

Miss Sudbury seemed far too spirited for the man. Moreover, Jasper had only to look at the man’s overbearing mother to know there would be no feather bed jig for Furley and the intriguing young woman, nor even a hurried flyer against the wall.

That thought pleased him, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if he, himself, was going to pursue her. Was he?

Perhaps he would. To better make up his mind, Jasper went as the crow flies directly across the room to where she stood. Her aplomb as she looked up at him gave him pause.

Was she an interesting tidbit or was she something more dangerous?

“Good evening, Lady Pomony,” Jasper greeted the viscountess first. “Furley,” he added, nodding to the man who was only a couple years younger than he was, but seemed like a university boy. Then he turned his attention to the female who’d called him a morsel. “And who is this delightful creature?”

Furley coughed, maybe at Jasper’s flowery language. “You met her when we arrived, my lord.”

Jasper tilted his head and looked at her. He’d met her even better in his bedroom, but he didn’t want Furley to think he recalled the chit at all.

“This is Miss Sudbury, sir,” Furley continued. “Her sister is the widow, Lady Worthington.”

This news made him look at the female again with fresh eyes. That explained why he’d never seen her before. The old Earl of Worthington had gone to a country parish and grabbed himself a young wife about two years prior. Then he’d unluckily up and died a couple weeks after the nuptials. The new wife had been left to fend for herself in London society, undoubtedly spending most of the time in mourning.

That also clarified this particular young woman’s intrepid nature. Her sister had done well for herself. Why not her?

Taking her hand, he bowed over it. There was that delicate perfume. As if he were a randy youth, it made his loins tighten.

“My apologies for not recalling our meeting in my receiving line,” he intoned.

She fixed him with a sardonic gaze. “That’s quite all right, Lord Marshfield. With so many guests, how could you possibly remember any one person new to you? One would almost have to do something outrageous to stand out.”

She gave a pretty smile. He returned it with a grin.

“What a thing to say!” Lady Pomony exclaimed, looking nervously from Jasper to her son, as if Furley might be tainted by something Miss Sudbury said or did.

The man should be so lucky, Jasper thought, as to be intimately connected with this minx.

During the dinner, Jasper changed his mind half a dozen times as to pursuing his interest in Miss Sudbury, watching her sip his wine, eat his food, chat