Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,25
qualms about seducing her, which meant he had a conscience and might not be the dreadful dog everyone, including Sarah, believed him to be.
Lying back on the counterpane, she stared at the rose-colored canopy above her.
Drat! Having been more than ready to leave the last vestiges of youthful innocence behind her — and at the hands of an experienced lover — it was a let-down to be still entirely intact. At least she could be assured of his desire for her. That had been evident in his kiss and in his breeches.
All in all, it was probably for the better. This way, they could continue on an even footing — dancing, flirting, kissing. She imagined once the wicked deed was done, their association would necessarily change. Either he would be satiated and end any blossoming friendship for fear she might grow attached to him, or they would in fact grow closer and, indeed, her heart would become involved. Most likely it would get bruised by him, too.
That didn’t mean she intended to stop. A bruised heart seemed worth it when a man kissed the way he did. Moreover, his hands had roamed her body and grabbed her bottom.
She threw her arm over her face at the memory. The earl had wrapped his fingers around her arse and held it. What’s more, he’d pressed her against him, and she’d felt his hardened manhood. What if they’d actually tupped, either upon her sister’s sofa or in her bedroom?
Julia couldn’t help grinning as her whole body tingled at the thought.
She couldn’t deny she still hoped such an experience was not too far in the future.
ANOTHER LAVISH DANCE, and while Julia was prepared to venture upstairs and relieve the host and hostess of a few dazzlers, she was lagging in the ballroom with Mrs. Zebodar, hoping to see Lord Marshfield. It had been nearly a week since their intimate dinner, and she’d given up waiting for a note from him with a cordial invitation for some outing. After all, they didn’t have an arrangement.
Still, Julia had hoped she was somehow special and had to take herself to task for such a silly notion. Every woman must think that exact same way, which meant none of them were special at all. Ninny-pated fool!
His last association in the papers had been with the young lady she’d encountered briefly at the earl’s dinner party. And according to the gossip rags, they’d been seen having heated words at Lady Pritchard’s ball.
When Julia crossed paths again with the earl, no doubt he would welcome her with his attractive smile and ask her for a dance. In the meanwhile, she tamped down her disappointment.
Eventually, she let a partner lead her to the polished floor, then begged off with a torn hem and disappeared from the ballroom, just as before. It worked as easily as the many times prior, and she found herself passing through the Viscountess Chandron’s bedroom to her dressing room.
A beautiful woman, it was reputed she cuckolded her husband regularly, and many of the more debauched aristocrats had been reported to take a good slice of her. Of course, as Sarah pointed out, the accounts in the meanest pages of the papers, slyly or openly cutting down those considered to be members of the bon ton, were all brutally embellished and exaggerated.
For all Julia knew, the lady might live the life of a nun. Yet she glanced at the large bed as she passed it by, and the stark image of Lord Marshfield entangled in the sheets with Lady Chandron brought forth a sting of jealousy.
A nasty, unfamiliar emotion!
Frowning, Julia made her way through the open door to the dressing room and immediately spied a jewelry box. Making quick work of it, she took an emerald brooch, only because there were two of them, and then reached for a sapphire bracelet that made her think of Lord Marshfield’s cravat pin.
Hesitating for the briefest moment, she slid this into her reticule as well. Deciding two such pieces were enough for one night’s work, she left the chamber, passed through the bedroom, trying not to think of a particular man grabbing a woman’s buttocks that weren’t hers, and popped into the hallway.
“Here now, what are you doing?”
Julia froze. While her thoughts had been consumed with the earl, she hadn’t even peeked out and looked in either direction. And she’d stepped directly into someone’s path.
Turning toward the voice, she saw it was the Viscount Chandron himself.